You have to be very brave to live with fear.

Against common belief, fear is not always a matter for cowards.

To live scared to death you need, in fact, a great deal of courage'.

- Ángel González

The return home after the end of the fourth year followed the line of the events that had taken place since Cedric's lifeless return from the maze: it was very strange. The Manor was plunged into a deep silence, broken only by his footsteps on the marble, and Draco could swear that even the house elves weren't behaving as usual. When he reached the main hall and saw his parents waiting for him, he knew it wouldn't be long before he got some answers. They didn't exactly have to be good ones.

- Mother, Father - he said hello, kissing his mother. Narcissa, without breaking her temper, gripped her son's arm tighter than necessary as she pressed her lips together, and did not released him. Draco frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Lucius' cane echoed through the room.

- I assume you are aware of what happened. Potter and Dumbledore have already spread the news for us- he said as he raised an eyebrow.

Draco frowned even more, and faced his father.

- Are you talking about Cedric? Potter insists he was murdered by Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but no one believes him. - Draco snorted. His look turned mocking and his lips curled up - He can' t get enough of the spotlight.

The smile faded as he watched his father still staring at him seriously, not playing his game. Narcissa moved even closer to him and released his grip, only to slip her arm around his back.

- We have the advantage that no one seems to believe him, but Potter has not lied. The Dark Lord has returned, and the same loyalty we gave him years ago is expected of our family - Lucius moved closer to his son, rising over him, and put his hand on his shoulder as he gazed deeply into his eyes. Draco swallowed and tried not to reflect the fear he was beginning to feel.

He knew it was a stupid question, but he couldn't keep it to himself.

- Were you there? Did you see Cedric die?

- When I arrived, he was already dead. But yes, I was there. - His gaze hardened, and Draco's hands clenched into fists. The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife.

- If Potter made it back, that means he did beat him again. Is that so?

- Yes - Lucius practically hissed - and the Dark Lord is not happy about that. That boy is going to be hard to kill. - His patience was at its edge, and he would never have said that in any other situation, but the privacy of Malfoy Manor allowed him to speak with a freedom he could not afford in front of his Lord.

Draco opened his mouth again, ready to ask another question, but Lucius was tired of listening to him. He slammed the handle of his cane against his son's chest to give him a warning, as he had been doing ever since the boy had returned from his first year being second to a mudblood. Draco instinctively closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, thinking that he would never be able to get used to the feel of the snake's head against his skin, and Narcissa winced and tightened her protective grip.

- Draco, the Dark Lord is offended because I haven't searched for him over the years, and our family is under observation. We need to regain our place in his ranks, but quietly while his return remains a secret. As my heir, I expect you to live up to our family name, and you will be trained to do so during this summer. I don't want any disappointments. Do you understand me?

Draco opened his eyes and tried to calm his expression. He nodded, and his father removed the cane. He gave his son one last look of anger and turned away from them. His gaze penetrated to the depths of the boy's soul and, reacting impulsively, he asked him one last question.

- Father, were you seen by Potter?

Lucius stopped in the middle of the room and looked over his shoulder.

- Of course. Are you worried that he doesn't want to be your friend anymore? - he asked mockingly, as he turned again.

Narcissa relaxed her grip and Draco quickly excused himself. He climbed the stairs two at a time, and locked himself in his room.

Contradictory thoughts kept crossing his mind. He felt he should rejoice over Voldemort's return and the new missions that awaited his father against the mudbloods and would eventually, await him. But a new sense of terror, unlike any he might have felt before, washed away that false joy.

The tightness in his chest that had haunted his dreams for the past month returned as he remembered the funeral of Cedric, the boy he had secretly admired so much. Images of Potter holding the boy's body, and the thunderous silence of the Hall during Dumbledore's speech haunted him as he closed his eyes, and now he seemed to be re-living it in his room.

Voldemort's ideas of greatness for the Purebloods had always seemed more than adequate, and he loved to talk about his father's position of trust during the First War with other Death Eaters' children. But he had just witnessed one of the most brutal consequences of his family's choice in a way he had not expected. Not to mention that this cold-blooded murder could have been carried out by his father. In the future, the same could be required of him.

As Draco grabbed the sheets of his bed, his hands shivered.

And he dreamed of a life that was not his own. Nightmares gave him a truce in the form of a smile from someone who had never smiled at him before.