*Author notes at the end*
In the year 1981, the First Wizarding War came to an end. Wizarding kind across the country celebrated; groups set off miniature fireworks inside the Leaky Cauldron while other magical folks merrily drank and roamed the streets of Muggle London. One wizard was even rumored to have cast a spell powerful enough for shooting stars to appear over the southeastern counties of Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee. Owls flew overhead, scattering to every corner of the British wizarding world to spread the news of Lord Voldemort's downfall. Many of the news outlets took to giving Lord Voldemort the moniker "You-Know-Who," as many still believed his name to be taboo. The Daily Prophet's front page reported the captures and trials of You-Know-Who's followers before the Wizengamot. Among those charged with life sentences in Azkaban were Mucliber Sr., Mulciber Jr., Pyrites, Travers, and Mr. and Mrs. Snyde. Other followers who were influential enough to avoid a stint in Azkaban, claiming to be under the Imperius Curse, were Lucius Malfoy, Nott Sr., Crabbe Sr., Goyle Sr., the Carrow siblings, Yaxley, and Avery Jr.
Numerous rumors floated around about You-Know-Who's downfall. Some say Albus Dumbledore finally beat him with the aide of the Aurors, fewer said it was because You-Know-Who's claims about immortality were fear-mongering propaganda spread by his followers, and an overwhelming number of rumors say that You-Know-Who murdered the Potter family. People were saying that he was killed by their infant son, Harry Potter, when the killing curse failed, leaving a lightning-shaped scar on the little boy's forehead. Shortly after the rumors began, little Harry Potter vanished from the wizarding world, with no one knowing where he disappeared to. In bold print, the Daily Prophet and many other news outlets printed the headline: 'Where is the Boy-Who-Lived?'
As the days went on, more news on the trials returned to the front pages. Imprisoned Death Eater, Igor Karkaroff, was freed months after his interrogation by Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch Sr. Sources reported that the now-former Death Eater received a full pardon as a reward for turning in the names of any remaining Death Eaters that avoided capture. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, sat among the jurors and Aurors for every trial. Ludovic Bagman, Beater for the Wilbourne Wasps, was tried for being a sympathizer for You-Know-Who's cause, giving critical insider information from within the Ministry and influential parties. His case was nullified by many of the Wizengamot members voting for his release. One of the more scandalous trials reported on was that of Barty Crouch Jr., Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Rabastan Lestrange. The group of devout followers received life sentences in Azkaban for the use of the Cruciatus Curse to torture Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom, subjecting the two to a life bound in hospital beds and chairs in St. Mungo's and leaving their son to be raised by another family member. Witches, wizards, creatures, and Muggles alike were shaken to their core by the destruction caused by You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. But there was hope for change, and the world built itself anew.
In another part of England, over in Wiltshire County, everything was as it should have been before the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. After his trial, Lucius Malfoy returned to his usual activities: being the head of his family business and reassuming his position as an influential political beneficiary to the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts's Board of Governors. Narcissa Malfoy split her time between running social events at their home for Lucius's ministry work and tending to her herbal collection in the conservatory. But despite their lively schedule, the Malfoys' main priority was raising their son.
On a spring afternoon in mid-April, the three-year-old Malfoy heir was attended to by Dobby, the family house-elf, in getting ready to accompany his mother to the conservatory. His small voice laughed and giggled with Dobby's jittery movements, reaching his tiny hands out to pat the house-elf's face and head, pulling on its long, bat-like ears in the process.
"Dobby… Dobby asks Little Master to settle down, s-sir," said Dobby nervously, dashing its enormous eyes back and forth.
The little heir continued to giggle and wave his arms around before dashing around the room.
"L-little Master, s-sir! You must allow Dobby to dress you, sir! Oh, no, no, no… M-mistress will be very, very displeased… very –" the house-elf groaned in a high-pitch squeak, wringing its ears in its hands, and banging its head onto the corner of the toddler's bedpost.
While the house-elf punished itself, it was unaware that the troublesome Malfoy heir had stopped in his tracks to stare at it. A queasy, uneasy feeling bubbled up in his stomach at the sight of the creature's blatant self-injuries and hearing its painful squeaks. He grabbed the midnight blue dress robe that was abandoned on the bedroom floor, putting it on himself, and stepped towards the house-elf who was now banging its head on the bedpost.
"Don't cry. Look, all done!" said the boy excitedly, spinning around to show his effort to the house-elf.
"Oh – Little M-master, s-sir!" wailed Dobby, hiccoughing and rubbing its huge, watery eyes as it pressed down the creases of the boy's robes. "H-hic-how k-hic-kind a-and good of hic you, s-sir, hic! S-such a hic good Little M-master hic, he is!"
Feeling extraordinarily happy at completing this simple task, the Malfoy heir took hold of Dobby's hand to apparate. Within a snap of Dobby's fingers, the boy and the house-elf appeared at Malfoy matriarch's doorway.
The boy saw his mother stand in front of a full-length mirror, turning side to side as she put on a deep brown dress robe. People regularly said he was the spitting image of his father, but he had some of his mother's looks too. Her long, blonde hair was formed in an intricate plait that fell just above her waist. He inherited the white-blonde hair, but there were also fine streaks of a light golden blonde. Her long, blonde hair was formed in an intricate plait that fell just above her waist. He inherited the signature Malfoy white-blonde, with fine streaks of a light golden blonde. Her pale skin contrasted greatly against the dark colors of her dress robe, causing her to have an ethereal-like beauty. He was also exceptionally pale and any shade of color made his complexion stand out.
"Mum," said the boy softly.
She saw his reflection in the mirror, her pair of cool, blue eyes found his twinkling grey ones.
"My dragon," she said, turning around and smiling. "Let's be on our way, shall we?"
He gave a slight nod, holding his small hand up to her. Narcissa dismissed Dobby and wrapped her hand over his outstretched one, leading them along the corridor to the conservatory.
Between the ages of three and five, he never strayed too far from his mother's shadow. They would sit in the library, with Draco sometimes wandering off to pick up a book from the lower shelves and handing it to her so she could read to him. The pair would walk around the outdoor garden, Narcissa laughing sweetly as Draco kept reaching out to grab the flying seahorses gliding along the lake's surface. They would pass the albino peacocks roaming along the grassy knolls, but he didn't dare bother them after almost losing a hand when he tried to get too close. Draco especially enjoyed accompanying her in the conservatory, watching her wave her wand and whisper spells over the plants in each section of the glass building. She would point out certain plants to him, telling him their names and some of their primary uses.
His father joined them from time to time, his steps clipped and precise, with the sound of his cane echoing off the stone floor. He pointed at a handful of the bigger and more exotic plants with his cane, informing Draco that these were acquired from around the country and overseas as presents for his mother. A friend of theirs also regularly dropped by to meet with them at the conservatory or for afternoon tea. He was a tall, black-haired man with a hooked nose, whose black robes billowed after each long stride. Draco stared at him with a curious expression, holding his gaze before averting it whenever the man's intense black eyes found his. Draco piped in every now and again to ask the name of a plant while the three adults conversed freely.
In contrast to Narcissa's calm and doting nature, Lucius was a strong and stern presence in Draco's life. Being a successful businessman and an important figure in the Ministry made his expectations of Draco's decorum and prospects relatively high. Draco may have inherited the signature Malfoy looks and immense wealth automatically, but Lucius wanted his son to succeed in every aspect of his life to obtain fame, prestige, and power. That wasn't to say that Lucius didn't spoil his son; no, make no mistake. The Malfoy patriarch, along with his wife, gave Draco everything life could offer him – and more, ensuring he would grow up never needing anything. Lucius's favorite expression of his love was spontaneously giving his son presents, and this most recent present would become a favorite memory for both father and son.
He arrived at the Manor one morning holding a large rectangular parcel. His business meeting ended earlier than expected, so he decided to stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies on his way back from Diagon Alley. Lucius burst through the Manor's floo, dusting off his black velvet dress robe, and made his way to the ballroom, setting his cane on the edge of an armchair.
He held the parcel with both hands.
"Dobby!" Lucius summoned.
The house-elf appeared a second later, trembling and bowing so low to the ground that his pointy nose was scrunched up painfully.
"Ye-yes, M-Master?" replied Dobby nervously.
Lucius sneered, placing the parcel on one of the settees to momentarily grab his cane. He struck Dobby under its chin, sending the poor house-elf flying into the wall.
"Bring Draco down here. Now. And stop trembling, you pathetic creature."
"A-apologies, Ma-master. D-Dobby will go fetch the y-young master r-right away!" sputtered Dobby, pushing itself onto its wobbly knees and snapping his fingers.
Lucius let out an irritated sigh as grabbed the parcel and moved toward the French doors. He watched the albino peacocks strut and fan out their magnificent tails, getting lost in the memories of the first pregnancy, the excitement of their first son, and the pain that followed.
"Father! You're back!"
Draco's breathless exclamation brought Lucius out of his reverie.
He reigned his emotions back in, glancing at the five-year-old's reflection on the glass door. The boy truly is the spitting image of himself when he was that age, the short white-blonde hair, and pointy facial features. He turned his focus back onto his reflection; a tall, intimidating man with long hair characteristically tied back with a black ribbon. The Malfoy crest was monogrammed atop the left breast of his elegant black dress robes. His eyes were the same shade of grey as Draco's but his possessed a piercing and dangerous glimmer.
"Now Draco, that is not the proper way to greet someone," he chided.
"Sorry, father," replied Draco, his face falling slightly before adjusting his posture. "Welcome home."
"That's better," said Lucius, turning to reveal his surprise. "I brought you a gift."
He smiled as Draco's face lit up at the sight of it.
"Is that – but mother said –"
"I will speak to your mother. If either one of us is present while you ride it, there shouldn't be an issue," replied Lucius calmly.
"Thank you, father!" Draco's grey eyes twinkled with exhilaration as he opened the parcel, revealing the latest training broom for young witches and wizards.
Both Malfoy men walked out towards the garden. Lucius stood close by as Draco mounted onto the broom, watching fondly, and laughing as the boy zoomed around his legs. Narcissa was sitting by the window of the second-floor library, her eyebrows furrowed at Lucius's decision but ultimately gave in to the happy feeling of seeing her husband and son enjoy themselves.
And this was how Draco Malfoy spent most of his early childhood days. Once he turned six, Narcissa began his etiquette training while also teaching him how to read, write, and calculate numbers. She also educated Draco about the traditions and beliefs of the Black Family. She explained the Black Family's affinity to dark magic, telling him tales from her younger years and how she and her sisters, along with their cousins, got into all kinds of trouble in their childhood home at 12 Grimmauld Place hidden in London. Draco wondered why he had never met her siblings or cousins when she spoke so fondly of them. They were sitting in the first-floor library during their lesson, a book on the Black Family in his hands. Narcissa was explaining a section on his great-great-great-grandfather, Arcturus Black I, and how he was a talented student who went on to further establish the Black Family wealth in his exploration of the world after graduating. Draco was staring at the page of the family tree, curious why there were two rose buds along the branch that connected to his portrait. He began absentmindedly tracing the scorched marks on the page of the family tree while his mother spoke, wondering why one of the names of her sisters and cousins were no longer there. He eventually asked why they had never visited the manor.
"Mother, where are your sisters and cousins? Why haven't I met them?"
Narcissa turned, seeing the page of his book, and sighed, a look of sadness and anger flitting through her face. She made her way towards the table, sitting on the empty chair beside him, taking the book into her hands, and placed her hand on his.
"Unfortunately, Draco, dear, your aunt Bellatrix is currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban. You will learn in a few years that there was a war, and your aunt served on the front lines of a cause that would have put us purebloods at the top. As for my younger cousin, your uncle Regulus,… he disappeared during the war. No one knew what happened to him or where he went. He was nowhere to be found," she explained, sorrow in her voice.
Draco felt uncomfortable, he didn't like to see his mother sad. He didn't see her sadness often, but there were times when he'd walk in on her sitting in the terrace gardens or lounging at her favorite spot by the window of the second-floor library, teary-eyed and listless. He was hesitant to continue asking her questions, but his curiosity over the scorched names, and why a burning sensation could be felt when he traced his fingers across them as if a flame would burst forth at any moment.
"What about these names? Why are they scorched? The rest of the book is normal, but these spots feel they're still on fire."
The anger returned to Narcissa's face. A flicker of the resentment and hurt of her sister and cousin's betrayal bubbled up in her chest. Her lips formed a thin line, though she was a bit thankful for the distraction of Draco's questions.
"It is ancient magic that is connected to the original Black Family tree tapestry that lines a special room in Grimmauld Place. Once a name is scorched from the walls of the tapestry, every piece of literature in the Black Family library that contains that name will be scorched out as well," said Narcissa, her lips pursed in displeasure.
She looked at the names with disdain, but there was also a small hint of regret in her eyes as she continued.
"This is what happens to those we consider blood-traitors and those who abandon their family traditions and beliefs. I will only speak of it this once, Draco, but you must know to never utter these names outside of this conversation. Do you understand?" said Narcissa firmly, squeezing his hand.
"Yes, mother. I understand," said Draco, nodding with interest and anticipation.
"Your aunt Andromeda, my second eldest sister, abandoned us to run off and marry a Mudblood who was in her year at school. She was betrothed to marry into the Burke family, but she protested, claiming she would be the one to choose her husband. It was a scandal that wracked our family for a while. Your grandmother scorched Andromeda's name off the night she left. Your uncle Sirius, Regulus's older brother, became more defiant as he got older. None of us understood his fascination with the Muggle world. It wasn't until after he turned sixteen that he renounced his claim to the Black Family head as the eldest son and ran off to live with a blood-traitor family. His mother, your great-aunt Walburga, burned his portrait off the tapestry that same night. We never associated with either of them again. We do not speak their names or acknowledge their relation to us. You must do the same."
Draco gulped. His hands became sweaty. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be so detached and disregarded by his mother and father. He loved them and knew he was loved by them; they would do anything for each other.
Narcissa saw his panicked expression and ran her other hand through his hair to comfort him.
"I believe that's enough lessons for today. Would you like to go flying in the garden? It's been a while since the two of us spent time along the lake," said Narcissa softly, pulling him up with her as she rose from her seat.
Draco's face beamed up at her.
"I'll go get my broom!" he exclaimed as he ran for the stairs.
Narcissa reached out to the open page, her fingertips lingered on the scorched names of the people she once loved before closing the book and returning it on the bookshelf. She quickly rearranged her features to present a calm demeanor and walked off to meet her son on the terrace.
Another part of Draco's lessons was those on the Malfoy Family ancestry taught by his father. For their lessons, Lucius brought Draco to the first-floor library, picking out books regaling the tales of all the Malfoy men, from the French wizard Armand Malfoy to his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. They sat in adjacent armchairs with Lucius telling his son about Armand Malfoy joining the army led by King William I of Normandy who invaded England. Armand was rewarded for his efforts in the war with a prime piece of land in Wiltshire, England. That same property of land would become the grounds on which their manor now stood. The Malfoy men that came after influenced many decisions within the newly formed British Ministry of Magic during the late eighteenth century to the present day. Lucius's role in Draco's early education was limited. His plan to immerse and guide his son on leadership, business practices, and politics was a long-term one that wouldn't begin until Draco entered his sixth year at school.
Lucius also explained about the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a select group of ancient family lines of witches and wizards in England that were considered true purebloods. Draco recognized some of the names, like Lestrange, Ollivander, and Weasley. He remembered seeing Lestrange in the Black Family book and saw it attached to his aunt Bellatrix's name, along with the name of her husband. He'd seen Ollivander's shop whenever his parents took him along to Diagon Alley and looked upon the children with envy as they left the shop with their brand-new wands. He heard the Weasley name from his father, who described their lot as blood-traitors and a disgrace to wizarding kind.
An overwhelming amount of his combined family ancestry, traditions, and beliefs emphasized the importance of pure-blood values – which roughly amounted to wizard superiority above all. These traditions and beliefs sought to ingrain hostile and hateful sentiments towards Squibs, Muggles, and Muggle-borns; beings that are seen as no better or worse than sentient magical creatures. The next series of lessons was a joint effort, with both of his parents describing and explaining the roles of Squibs, Muggles, and Muggle-borns in wizarding society. Squibs are considered the most pathetic and pitiable of the three, as they were able to know, sense, and see magic yet possess no magical ability of their own. They told him about Muggles and how they have no affinity to magic and are thus ignorant in their understanding of anything magical. They are depicted as barbaric savages; their primitive societies only knowing chaos and destruction.
That day his parents explained that Muggles sometimes had children who obtained magical abilities. Muggle-borns, which he'd often heard his father call Mudbloods, was the worst and most despicable. His mother said the blood of these Muggle-born children were dirty; that their unnatural gain of magical powers tainted the very core of magic itself. Muggle-borns were considered pollution, a build-up of scum that threatened to corrupt and infect their pure-blood society. His father went on to say that he is working hard at the Ministry to eradicate all those who are undeserving and unworthy of magic. The day's lesson stuck with Draco until well into the night. He wondered how a group of magicless people could have magical children. Would those kids have to live without magic until they found out or were told about it somehow; was it even possible?
Narcissa had just finished reading his favorite tale, The Warlock's Hairy Heart, when he spoke.
"Mum," said Draco slowly, fidgeting with his silk sheets. "How can Muggles live without magic? How could their children have magic? Wouldn't –"
"Draco. Put such thoughts out of your mind. Never speak of them again. Ever," she hissed vehemently.
"But –"
"Draco!" said Narcissa sharply, giving him a quelling look.
Draco turned his attention towards his hands, his cheeks warm with embarrassment and the tips of his ears burned a bright red with shame. He thought it was ridiculous for his mother to reprimand him because of a few silly questions.
Narcissa's face softened at the sight of her son's pouting. She flattened the invisible creases of her dress, resting her hands on her lap.
"Muggles are dangerous, Draco," she said resolutely. Her son continued to avoid looking at her. "We cannot predict what such uncivilized and desperate beasts will do to survive, to gain our knowledge, to have a taste of our power. They are what they are. They must be kept out of our world and any attempts at understanding them are discouraged and frowned upon in a pure-blood society. Remember what I told you about those scorched names? You do not want to end up like them, Draco. I won't allow it. Do not concern yourself with those thoughts any longer."
Draco let out a frustrated huff before reluctantly nodding. Narcissa kissed his forehead before leaving his room.
Draco laid there with furrowed brows, the unanswered questions still floating around in his mind. His parents' reactions were the same, though his mother's temper was a lot milder than his father's. He replayed the scene from earlier that day, a few hours after his lesson, when he approached his father in the sitting room, and asked about school, wondering if Muggle-borns would be attending the same one and if he'd have to share a room with them. He shuddered at the image of his father's long nostrils flaring, the crackling of magic that came from the cane in his tight grip, and the vein that pulsed in his forehead as he yelled no son of his will be associating, let alone sharing anything, with any filthy Mudbloods – he would see to it personally. Draco left the sitting room, a fistful of his robes in each hand, his head hung low, looking abashed and angry. They were only a few silly questions…
His eyelids grew heavy, and the sound of his soft snoring took the place of any lingering thoughts.
June came around and Draco's seventh birthday arrived as easily as the heat of the season. It was a warm summer afternoon when Severus dropped by for the small birthday celebration. Draco was out flying around the garden, his mother and father standing by the fountain, with his father waving his wand to cast a cooling charm on them both. He caught sight of Severus's billowing robes through the large French doors. Draco gripped the broom handle, a rush of speed propelling him forward, making a spinning dive towards the terrace. He swung both feet off the cushioned broomstick, sweeping it up from under him, and landed effortlessly on the wooden platform with a flashy dismount. From the other side of the large glass doors, Severus couldn't help smirking at the boy's propensity for showing off. He opened the door with Draco rushing to meet him.
"Uncle Sev!" greeted Draco cheerfully.
Severus nodded, pulling out a minuscule item from his robe pocket that returned to its full size after swishing his wand over it. It was a black box with an equally simple black ribbon binding it together.
"Happy birthday, Draco," drawled Severus.
Draco was unfazed with his uncle's familiar, drawling voice and stern look. He's known the man since as far back as he can remember.
"Thank you, uncle Sev. Wait a moment, mother and father should be making their way here," said Draco gleefully, taking the box from Severus and rushing off to his room.
Narcissa, Lucius, and Severus situated themselves in the lounge room. Their conversations were full of humor and lighthearted scoffs as they fell into retellings of their childhood and experiencing their first magical incident when they were Draco's age.
Draco stayed awhile in his room to admire his gifted first edition copy of Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science by Argo Pyrites before placing it onto his bookshelf. Severus's fascination with alchemy and potions was evident in his essays, which were published in Mixture Monthly from time to time, and his current position as Potions Master at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Quite a bit of this fascination rubbed off on Draco, who had a knack for understanding a potion's complex process. He smiled to himself; hoping Severus would consider gifting him a beginners potion set next year. He would talk to his father into allowing it. Draco descended the stairs leading to the lounge room, stopping just close enough to the door to catch the last bit of Severus's story about how hopeless his uncle Regulus had been in potions, and that his only saving grace was being a decent Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team. The sides of his father's eyes crinkled in laughter, sharing Severus's sentiments. His mother playfully chided them both, remarking on Regulus's good marks on other subjects.
Draco leaned against the wall by the doorway, feeling happiness at his parents and uncle chatting amiably, but an unpleasant emotion fought to overcome him. His annoyance grew the longer they laughed and exchanged stories about the friends and family from their past. The unpleasant emotion stewed inside him, threatening to push forward an aspect of his life that he tried to avoid, and a prickly sensation spread throughout his body. A throbbing pain engulfed him. He tried rubbing the sides of his temples to ease the pressure, but the built-up torrent within him shot out, breaking down a piece of the loo's wall from across the hall. The sound of the blast had the adults rushing towards the door. His mother was the first to reach him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"Draco! Are you alright? Are you hurt?" her hands were now cupping his face, her eyes scanning him.
"I'm…" – he gulped – "I'm okay, mother. I'm not hurt," said Draco breathlessly, placing his hands on the cool marble floor.
His father was beside him now.
"Son…" Lucius eyed the crumbling hole in the wall. He helped his son up from the floor, holding him close, unable to conceal how proud he was of his son's potential.
Severus lingered at the doorway, watching the scene before him, and making careful considerations as to how Lucius will proceed to handle Draco's magical ability and education before receiving the letter to Hogwarts.
Draco had performed accidental wandless magic as a baby, randomly popping up at his mother's side if he grew upset after being set in his cot. He also changed the fabric of Dobby's tea cozy into a ball of sheep's wool when its rough fabric brushed against his skin. Flowers popped up around Dobby's head when the house-elf's frantic behavior made him laugh. This was the first time his accidental magic stemmed from something that agitated him.
From that moment on, Narcissa included Draco in some simple spells she used around the conservatory. She lowered herself to his height, placing his hand on hers while slowly enunciating the incantation for Aguamenti. Together they swish-and-flicked the wand in the proper movements. A gentle stream of water flowed from the tip of her wand into the pot of her Cobra Lilies. His mother laughed as the snake-like plants hissed in satisfaction, commenting on his father's strange sense of humor. Draco thought they were interesting; a sentient creature that's both plant and animal. Lucius began showing Draco books containing spells and charms of the Dark Arts that were hidden in the depths of their family library; all without Narcissa knowing, of course. With Draco's hidden potential growing, Lucius wanted his son to know all his options regarding spells. Not all magical schools taught the Dark Arts. Although Draco couldn't perform these yet, he enjoyed seeing his father's outspoken display of excitement.
Severus also showed some interest in cultivating Draco's magic and took after Narcissa's pseudo-hands-on approach to spell work, demonstrating proper wand movements and correct enunciation of incantations. He even told the boy of some of the charms and curses that he modified when he was still a student. For one of his demonstrations, Severus performed a spell without his wand, flicking his hand in a down-up-down motion ending with an upward curve while reciting the incantation. The long dining table in the middle of the drawing room was cut into two even pieces.
Draco's eyes widened.
"That was brilliant, uncle Sev! Was that wandless magic?" Draco exclaimed.
"Yes. But keep in mind that wandless magic is one of the most difficult forms of spellcasting. Your focus must be precise, clear, and with purpose. Your magic will know of any hesitations or doubts," said Severus earnestly, knowing the boy would no doubt try something on his own and possibly end up in a similar, or worse, position than he was in June.
"He's right, Draco. Wandless magic is a tricky thing to master; one slip in concentration could result in unexpected or violent results. There are hardly any witches or wizards in Britain that are capable of it. A very impressive feat, Severus," said Lucius casually, casting a sideways glance at his old friend.
Draco's shoulders slumped, his face contorting into a sneer.
"How is a wizard supposed to do all that right before performing a spell? That almost makes it pointless to learn."
"Performing Occlumency helps clear your mind and temper down any emotions or thoughts clouding your judgment. It can also allow you to block out any witch or wizard using Legilimency, preventing them from invading your thoughts or reading your next move. It is another rare and rather difficult skill to master, not just any witch or wizard can attain it," said Severus warningly.
Draco raised his head, giving Severus and his father a hopeful stare.
"Do you think –"
"It is too early to tell. Your magic is only going to grow stronger from now on. There will always be room for improvement," said Severus dismissively.
"In due time, son," Lucius replied knowingly.
Draco shrugged off his disappointment, continuing to listen to Severus while his father took his wand out of the cane, waving it towards the table. His excitement to learn to control his magic returned as the two pieces of the table connected in a swift motion, a thin light sealing them together. Draco should have been happy that his parents were overjoyed and took more interest in his growing magical abilities, but the unpleasant feeling from his birthday continued to grow.
By January of next year, Draco could finally place a word on the unpleasant emotion he felt when he overheard his parents and Severus. He was lonely. Outside of his parents' lesson plans and the makeshift teaching arrangements with Severus, Draco was left with a lot of free time by himself. Being an only child in a place as massive as Malfoy Manor only intensified the emptiness that surrounded him. There were no lessons planned for the day, so naturally, Draco grew bored and decided to do a bit of exploring around the halls of the east wing. He had ventured around the manor enough to know a decent amount of nook and crannies to hide in or keep things hidden, but the day was long, so chances of a new discovery were high.
The heels of his dragonhide boots were muffled by the intricately woven carpet lining the middle of the black marble floor. He would bow quickly to the portraits of his ancestors bidding him "Good morning" as he walked by. Short bouts of sunlight gleamed through the tall glass windows. The sun's warmth was a welcome change from the chilly winter morning. Draco kept on walking down the hallway of the second-story east wing and descended the stairs to explore the first floor. This time his footsteps echoed along the back hall. The manor was empty and quiet.
Draco was rarely left alone in the manor, but this was one of those rare occurrences when both of his parents were gone. His father hadn't been home for some three days, writing in a letter that this was an important merger with an overseas company that he couldn't let slip by. His mother was also scheduled to attend a Ministry function event for the family business. Neither Malfoy was able to reschedule nor cancel.
Draco racked his mind for what to do; he wasn't allowed to fly without at least one parent present, and he'd already read the book Severus gave him. He turned the corner towards the library when he noticed Dobby right around the corner of the stairs leading down to the kitchen. Draco held a fondness of sorts for the creature despite his mother's indifference and his father's cruelty. Dobby had taken care of him since he was in nappies and apparated him countless times into different rooms within the manor.
There was never any worry from his parents about getting splinched, a common accident that's associated with apparition for magical folk. Although house-elves were bound to servitude by their wizarding masters, they were also capable of intricate and powerful magic. Dobby took care of their meals, able to enchant the kitchen utensils to prepare, cook, and set themselves simultaneously. After years of being in Dobby's care, Draco felt a mixture of affection, pity, and repulsion. The wrappings on its hands were frayed and continuously coming undone. It was always twitchy and couldn't speak a sentence without sputtering. Its enormous eyes were constantly red and watery from crying after every mistake. Its tea cozy was worn and ruddy, barely clinging onto its tiny frame, and it was always trembling or wincing in fear as it trailed after his father. But Dobby had never said a bad word towards Draco, it was patient with his antics, and it would comfort him by sneaking sweets onto his bedside table if his father admonished him too severely.
Delighted that he wasn't to his own devices, Draco walked towards the kitchen stairwell with a spring in his step. The house-elf had just placed back the freshly polished goblin-made steel helmet on top of the armor's bevor when it was about to apparate. Not wanting to be left on his own, Draco quickly ran towards Dobby, desperately lunging at it just as it snapped its fingers. In a second, he felt the familiar tug in his belly button and the two were hurdled onto a floor, which was luckily cushioned by a thick venetian rug. Draco scrambled up, wondering what room they landed in, and froze at the sight of his father's desk. There was no mistaking the intricate carving of the Malfoy crest, a large M in the middle of a coat of arms, two dragons at each side, and the words Sanctimonia Vincet Semper – Purity Will Always Conquer – inscribed on the banner below. Draco had only been in his father's study twice and was forbidden to enter unless otherwise told. Dobby was beside him; it clamped its hands on its bat-like ears, filling the room with a frenzy of high-pitched whimpering.
"No, no, no," squeaked the house-elf, tears, and snot began to drip from its face as it shook its head furiously. It began shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
Draco stared in horror. Panic kicked in as he realized the house-elf's wailing could be heard throughout the empty manor. If he was caught in his father's study… Draco visibly shook with dread.
"Dobby! What are you doing? Stop – stop that this instant!" Draco hissed, jumping up and covering Dobby's mouth with his hand, which instantly became slippery from the mixture of tears and snot.
"D-dobby mu-must punish himself! L-little Master… n-not allowed in!" cried Dobby, who had now leaped up to bang its head furiously on the uncovered part of the floor.
"Will you just – stop that – Dobby!" Draco abandoned covering its mouth and tried pulling it onto the nearest armchair. "We won't get in trouble. You can apparate us out of here, but you – must – settle – down! Don't make me command you."
Dobby, now sunken into the cushioned seat, was about to dissolve into more noisy wailing and moaning.
"Hush! We won't be able to get us out of this mess if you continue crying and banging your head onto things," said Draco, whose voice dropped into an anxious whisper.
The house-elf blinked anxiously; its huge eyes watery, hiccoughing as it choked back its sobs.
Dobby had to calm down – and fast. Draco never apparated when it was having a breakdown. There were countless books in the library about splinched witches and wizards losing limbs or being completely torn apart during a botched apparition. And with the current state Dobby was in, Draco didn't want to chance it.
An ominous air permeated the room. Draco a the strange feeling that someone – or something – was watching him. Dobby's suppressed sputtering and the ticking of the grandfather clock between the bookcases had him convinced he'd imagined it. He must have, for there was no one else in the room besides Dobby. A soft buzzing sound filled his head when he suddenly felt himself being pulled towards his father's desk. There was no way to resist against it; his feet slowly leading him to one of the bottom drawers. The buzzing grew louder, reverberating in his ears like a muffled voice was calling out, forcing its will onto him to free it.
Draco placed his hand on the drawer; a low, steady rhythm pulsated through the wood. The palms of his hands were sweaty, every fiber of his being told him to run – he was afraid – but the will of whatever was inside this drawer kept its hold on him. He only had to pull it open…
"What do you think you're doing, Draco?" came a familiar drawl.
The buzzing disappeared. Draco's head snapped up to see the cold grey eyes of his father. He heard Dobby throw itself onto the floor, scrambling on its knees towards the doorway.
"Petrificus totalus!" said his father coldly, pointing his wand at the wailing house-elf.
Lucius walked into the room, stopping in front of Dobby's petrified body.
"I'll deal with you later," he said venomously, grinding the bottom of his cane into the house-elf's stomach.
Within a few long strides, Lucius was now towering over his son.
"I made it clear that you are forbidden from entering here. Either I raised a son too incompetent to follow simple instructions or one foolish enough to think he could get away with disobedience. Tell me, Draco, are you incompetent or foolish?"
Draco kept his head low as he stood. He desperately wanted to wipe the sweat off his palms but was too terrified to move under his father's piercing gaze.
"I'm sorry, father," said Draco quietly, tears blurring his vision.
Lucius placed the top of his cane under Draco's chin, forcing the boy to look up. His long, pale fingers were gripping hard enough into the boy's shoulder to make him wince.
"You will never think of disobeying me again," – Lucius was grinding his teeth furiously – "Leave. Now."
Draco didn't hesitate to run out the door, not sparing a glance at Dobby's frozen body.
* I'm sorry it has taken me so long to upload a new chapter. A lot of things happened since I uploaded the first chapter. It was also a lot easier to forgo writing when I didn't set a schedule for myself. I'm going to upload at least a chapter or two every month now.
A big thank you to those who liked my story, left comments, gave kudos, and decided to follow.
Thank you to anyone who reads this.
I hope you enjoy it.