Chapter Four: Memoirs of a Dragon

Draco glared at Harry, as if daring him to refuse. His mind was in a whirlwind – Potter, Golden-boy, Dumbledore's favorite, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One (A new title bestowed upon him recently by the Daily Prophet after his run in with the death eaters in the Department of Mysteries a few months back) lived such a painful life? After seeing himself from Harry's eyes, he finally understood why Harry treated him all these years. And the last bit he saw involving Harry's uncle, and how he escaped his house to end up in Knockturn Alley…it left him vaguely nauseated.

But he wasn't the only one who was going through this. There were two sides to every story, and Draco would be damned before he would let Potter scoot away, thinking he was just a spoiled, stuck up rich pansy.

"You want to show me your memories?" Harry asked, a bit bewildered.

"Chickening out, Potter?" Draco taunted as he began recalling memories to put into the pensive. "You can give the heat, but you can't take it."

Harry, who had seemed a bit hesitant at first, now glared at Draco.

"I'll watch whatever you want to show me Malfoy," he snapped back.

"There's the Gryffindor people know," Malfoy drawled, making the word 'Gryffindor' seem like an insult.

"Only a Slytherin would use a house's traits to prod them into doing something that they were going to do anyways," Harry retorted, putting the same emphasis on 'Slytherin' that Draco put on 'Gryffindor', though he did it with a smirk.

Draco didn't answer; he was too busy recalling memories to put into the pensive. When it came to Hogwarts time, he specifically recalled the memories Harry had shown him, and put the same ones in from his own point of view. Harry, meanwhile, waited patiently. Draco thought the boy was lost in his own thoughts and memories that he had to just relive, but when he finished and turned to him, Harry immediately rose. Apparently he was more alert than Draco originally thought.

"Well, Potter? You ready?" Draco sneered. Harry merely nodded. Draco gestured to the bowl, and once again the two of them fell into memories of the past.

Harry looked around. They were in an expensive looking nursery. It didn't seem right though, something was off. But what could it be? On one side was a small bed, a child sized dresser, a desk, a small piano…all things that would be in a well to do child's room. Books lined the small shelves, toys…

That was what was off. There were no toys in the room. Parchment, quills, inks, yes. Books, there were plenty of them. Toys? None.

Harry turned his attention to the small boy sitting at the desk. He had light blonde hair and silver eyes. He seemed to be writing on some parchment, stopping every once in a while as if to think about something.

"I was five," Draco said quietly. Harry nodded, and the door to the room opened, and a slightly younger Lucius Malfoy walked into the room. The boy didn't notice him; he continued writing with the quill. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Draco wince slightly. Lucius stood behind his son, and with a palpable rage grabbed the boy by the shoulder, pulled him out of his chair, and threw him on the floor.

"HOW ARE YOU TO GREET ME?" he roared. Harry winced in sympathy with the boy.

"I am sorry Father. F-forgive me. How-"

"Draco! Malfoys do not stutter!" A muttered spell, and his wand turned into a stout rid, as thick as his thumb. He hit Draco on the side with it, knocking the wind out of the boy. Tears sprang up in the child's eyes, but Harry noticed he was quick to wipe them away without his father noticing.

"My apologies, Father. I was so engrossed on the bookkeeping you wisely gave me for practice I did not hear you enter the room. I will be more alert to my surroundings from now on."

"Bookkeeping?" Harry asked. "You're FIVE for Merlin's sake, why are you bookkeeping?"

"I am the heir to the Malfoy Empire," Draco replied. 'I need to know how to do that type of thing. So do you."

"But at five? That's not reasonable!"

"It's as reasonable as making a five year old do most of the cooking and cleaning for a household."

Draco's tone was very bland with that last sentence, and Harry shot him a look of understanding. He turned his attention back to the memory, only to see Lucius looking at the sheet the boy had been doing.

"This is much better than the last attempt, Draco," his father said quietly. "Much better. You have managed to not be Crucioed today." A brief flash of relief crossed the boy's face, but it was immediately gone when his father looked at him.

"However, you must be taught to be more alert when a person enters the room. A Malfoy is NEVER caught off guard. Do you know what that means for you?"

"Lesson time," said the boy. There was barely a hint of the resigned tone of his voice, one that, most unfortunately, Lucius picked up. He backhanded the child, sending him flying, and Draco merely picked himself up.

"A Malfoy NEVER shows emotion Draco! Your lessons just got doubled. To the Dungeon. NOW."

Draco nodded, and set off through the doorway in a stately manner as the memory went grey.

"The first lesson was Malfoys don't cry," Draco said. "Soon after came a Malfoy never shows emotion. Those were always the two big ones, except for one other."

A slightly older Draco stood in a what looked like a dungeon. The perpetual cold look, with a slight sneer was already on the boy's face, something Harry now saw less as disdain, and more as a mask to hide anything that goes through his head. Lucius walked into the room, and took a look around.

"The muggle wasn't appropriately tortured, Draco," he said quietly.

"I saw no reason to bother, Father. It's just a muggle, I had more important things to do, like work on the ledger for next week," Draco replied nonchalantly. Apparently it wasn't the reasoning that Lucius was looking for, and he got angry.

"This is an important lesson, Draco! If you are to serve the Dark Lord, you must learn to torture muggles and other filth appropriately! They deserve it!"

"I thought 'A Malfoy Bows to No One'," replied Draco scathingly.

Lucius's eyes narrowed as the real Draco spoke.

"That's rule three," he explained.

"Apparently I need to re-teach you the art of pain," he said quietly. Then, without warning, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Draco's left shoulder. "POENA!"

Draco clutched his right shoulder, but tried not to say anything, even as his face paled.

"POENA!" Lucius pointed at Draco's side. Draco again clutched it, but still didn't cry out. Again and again Lucius pointed the wand at different parts of Draco's body, and again and again. Draco broke out in a sweat, but other than that he did not cry out.

Finally, Lucius stopped and just stared at him. Draco stared back coldly. He was pale, sweating, and trembling a little, but other than that said nothing.

"Go to your rooms and contemplate today's lessons Draco. Then make sure your copy of the ledger is complete, have Dobby deliver it to my desk." Lucius turned and walked out of the room, while Draco waited for him to go before moving. He walked to the corner of the dungeon, pulled a small drawer open, and grabbed what looked like a grubby silver sickle.

"Draconis," he whispered, and was immedietly swept away.

"That was Mum's way of helping me," Draco explained. "She always knew when I had a lesson, though she couldn't do anything about it, she always left a sickle in that drawer that was actually a portkey."

Harry nodded, and watched as Draco appeared in his room.

"How old were you?" Harry asked quietly.

"Ten."

Draco stumbled and collapsed on the floor, shaking. His door crept open, and suddenly a little girl Harry had never seen before ran into the room. She had silvery blonde hair like her father, but had her mother's blue eyes. She was in a dark blue dress that came down to her knees, and her hair was held back with a matching dark blue ribbon. She was wearing a small matching set of robes, and she knelt down beside Draco.

"Draco…did Father give you another lesson?" she asked quietly.

"Caitir…if he catches you here…" Draco replied; his breathing was labored.

"Draco, just let it out. Father is busy with Mr. Nott and Mr. MacNair at the moment, then I heard him telling Mother he has a meeting with the Death Eaters. You can let it out."

Caitir looked no older than five, but sounded older. Harry decided that it was an affect of living in the Malfoy household.

With that said, finally Draco broke down. He was shaking even more, and quietly sobbing while his little sister held him tightly.

"We'll get him back someday," his sister whispered. "And we can make our name as pure as he says it should be."

The ten year old Draco nodded, but just let all the tears flow. The memory began to fade.

"She was the only one to ever do that," Draco said in the silence. "She always talked about getting rid of my father, she hated what he was doing…"

Draco trailed off, and Harry let him. Part of him couldn't help being jealous, at least Draco had a little sister he could share his pain with…but then the memories formed once again.

The memories now traveled to Hogwarts. Harry saw himself as Malfoy saw him, and realized that maybe he did look like he had a big head to the untrained eye. He saw as Gryffindor denied Slytherin the house cup first year, he saw the duel with Draco from his perspective the second year, third year he saw Draco's fury and his beating afterwords when Harry got the Snitch before him, taking both the win and the Quiddich Cup. Forth year he saw Malfoy the Bouncing Ferret, and felt a huge willing of guilt for having laughed at Draco's humiliation. Other scenes, other confrontations passed on by, each one showing Draco's perspective. Harry had to admit, seeing it that way, he didn't look like the Golden Boy everyone said he should be.

But Draco wasn't done yet.

They were back in the dungeon. Harry looked around and saw a pale Draco staring at something. Harry realized that Draco looked a lot older in this…actually about the same as he did now.

"When is this?" Harry asked.

"Last Christmas."

"Draco, I'm glad to see you're here. Remember that muggle family I said you would have to torture?" Harry followed the memory-Draco's line of vision and saw that though the dungeon was dark, there was a circle of blue light around Lucius's feet, illuminating where he stood in the darkness.

"Yes, Father. Is that why you called me here?" Draco asked respectfully.

"No. See, I no longer have the muggle family for you to practice with," his father replied, "because SOMEONE decided to help them escape!"

Another pillar of light blossomed, and Harry gasped when he saw who was there. It was Caitir, hanging naked from the wall. Though she was beaten, bruised, and bloody in many different places, despite the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, Harry saw she was defiant. She looked as if she was ten or eleven now, but she held her head as high as any adult.

"SHE helped them escape Draco. She took away your lesson. So I had to have her given lessons. If she thinks those muggles are people, I told her I would have her treated like a muggle. I beat her and left her to Nott. He always was more aroused by little girls than full grown women."

Memory Draco went pale, as did Harry. Malfoy had beaten and had his own daughter raped?

"She is of no use to us, she is unclean. Draco, I am ordering you to end it. It's time you cast your first Avada Kedavra."

"NO!" Draco yelled. "ALOHAMORA!"

Caitir's locks came undone, and she hit the floor.

"CRUCIO!"

A jet of red light hit Draco square in the chest, and he began to scream.

"DRACO NO!" Caitir yelled.

"CRUCIO!" Malfoy ended his curse on Draco and began it on Caitir. Draco crawled over to her as his father tortured her some more, and held her in his lap when his father finished the curse.

"And now, Draco, you will see what happens to those who sully the Malfoy name," Lucius announced.

"NO!" Draco screamed and threw his body on top of his sister's to protect it.

"Perfectus Totalus!" His father put him in a full body bind, and with a wave of his wand rolled him off his sister. "I would have stunned you, Draco, but I want you to watch."

"AVADA…"

"Draco. Remember our plan. Do it, if not for yourself, but in my memory," the girl whispered. She did not run, but stared defiantly at her blood father, and spit at him as he finished the curse.

"…KEDAVRA!" A jet of green light shot form Lucius's wand, and hit Draco's sister dead in the chest. As if in slow motion she fell over, and the world seemed to stop as her body hit the floor.

Tears were threatening to pour out of Harry's eyes, and he saw his reaction to the memory was mirrored in both the memory Draco and the real Draco's eyes. Finally the memory faded, and the boys exited the pensive.

"I never knew," Harry whispered.

"I never knew about you either, so don't worry about it."

Draco made to leave, but just as he got to the door, Harry called out to him.

"Malfoy?" Draco turned back around to see Harry stand up and walk over to him.

"Yes Potter?"

"I'm sorry." Draco stared at him. A light touch of Legimancy showed it to be the truth – Harry Potter, the boy who lived, etcetera, etcetera, was sorry.

"…me too Potter."

"Harry."

"Excuse me?" Draco was flabbergasted.

"Call me Harry."

"Then you call me Draco," Draco replied.

"Let's start over?" Harry made it a question, to see if the Slytherin boy would agree.

"Hello. I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco said, sticking his hand out.

"Hi. I'm Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you."