Draco Malfoy didn't know what to do. He messed up. He messed up badly and the threat of what was going to happen was slowly circling him like a hawk finding its prey. The worst part was that he didn't know when or how it was going to strike.

It had been two hours since he made the mistake. Since he slipped and blundered. His cold mask skidded away from him, showing his tainted, filthy self, forever staining his family's worth. He was disgusted with himself. He earned punishment and he was going to have to take it, but no matter how much he told himself that it didn't stop the panic choking him. Breathing was completely lost from his control, just like everything in his life.

Clasping his gelled hair in his hands, his mind wandered to how he could escape this, how he could make up for it and show his father that he was worthy of forgiveness. Sadly he knew he could never persuade his father, he was yet to experience fourteen years of life, and even if he had, his father would always have more authority. Draco wasn't like Lucius, he wasn't naturally a perfect Malfoy and had to put all his effort into concealing his imperfections, but no matter how hard he tried, they always raised to the surface, giving his father the burden of having to beat it out of him.

With the hope of successfully compromising lost, Draco looked at his surroundings, hoping something could give him a way out. Even his bedroom taunted him, the silver and green walls shouted at him to be cunning, but offered no help. He looked deeper. Amidst the banal, perfect placed furniture, there was no personal belongings, every present he was given was to be on display, but never for personal use.

He looked at his tall looming wardrobe in the sharp corner of his room. Memories of his father locking him in there after punishment made him feel tight chested. He was too small at the time to be thrown in the dungeons. Not that his father had any concern about his safety, but because his mother wouldn't have it at the time. 'not yet' she would say, holding him close to her body. His father hated when she did that, but never would argue with her. Sometimes Draco wished that Narcissa would hold him like that whenever his father tried to correct him. Holding him in her soft arms, she would vow to protect him always and never leave. But that dream was always shattered. Eventually she stopped delaying the more severe punishments and looked the other way every time she heard her son pleading to not go downstairs.

It was always damp and raw in the dungeons. Worse of all, his father would cast a charm that made it impossible for him to black out and escape the harsh, painful experience. Once his father was done with his beating that night, Draco would definitely return to the dungeons. After all he had made a mistake and one mistake is enough to expect the worst.

Shifting his thoughts back to the wardrobe, he had an idea. Maybe if he hid in there for long enough, his father would think that the punishment was already over. But that thought was met with more reasonable ones which counteracted Draco's desperate need.

He had to just face this. Punishments exist to make you better. What was he doing trying to withdraw from the process? It wasn't his right. Lucius Malfoy was his superior who had to make sure that his son was living up to his high caliber that he was born into. Any good head of household would do the same especially if they had to deal with an heir who was an aberration like Draco.

Bitterly regretting ever wanting to hide, Draco shifted to the back of his room. He lent against the rigid wall and hugged his legs tightly into him.

'You're weak' he repeatedly yelled at himself. 'Foolish, flawed'

The scene of his mistake played over and over in his mind. This was all his own fault; he should have had a stronger grip. Malfoy's are poised and never make a scene in public. As soon as he dropped the pumpkin juice, he not only stained the dress of Mrs Parkinson, he stained his family's reputation. A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and ramifications were promised.

Now he was sitting in his room remembering what he's learnt in life. Never trust anyone. Never say anything. Don't utter a word unless spoken to. Suppress all emotions. Never let your guard down.

Everyone watches him, he's never safe.

Dread began to stampede on his heart, as he heard the footsteps.

Footsteps meant pain. Footsteps meant crucifixion.

No, he couldn't do it. He wasn't ready. He needed more time to prepare what to say, he couldn't spontaneously be perfect. Visions of himself misstepping until he falls off a cliff clouded all logic. He had to escape. Just this one time. Escape the cataclysm.

Jumping onto his feet, he followed impulse and grabbed his wand from his desk. Pointing it towards his window, he screamed 'Baubillious!'

A bright, yellow-white bolt of lightning shot out of the end of his wand, shattering the glass in front of it. Particles tumbled to the floor, leaving a path of flight.

"You are going to regret whatever you have done in there boy." Lucius voice bellowed, piercing Draco's ear drum when it collided.

Draco knew he had to escape, there was no other choice. Putting one foot ahead of the other, he dashed towards the window and jumped, casting a cushioning spell to the ground.

Birds brushed past his dangling legs as he began to fall four stories, for a second he felt like he was flying, but when his feet bounced on the pavement, he was reminded he wasn't free yet. Without a thought he ran. And he kept running through the back garden of the manor. Acres of pristine bushes and specifically placed flowers became obstacles in Draco's race to leave.

The sky was sleeping, it was past midnight. Draco's wand acted as a light source.

Thoughts of his father's rage after finding a smashed window and a missing heir floated around him. Draco was proving his father right, he was weak for running instead of taking his punishment like a man. However, in that moment the thought of further consequences was little compared to the few hours of freedom that was in clasping distance. If he reached the meadows he could lie there for a while and for once he wouldn't have the weight of the Malfoy name pushing down on him. It may have been naive and unwise to think, but he was thirteen and craved tranquility. So he kept running.

He sprinted through the Malfoy woods, blasting any hindrance that got in his way. The forest may have not been as forbidden as Hogwarts, but was nonetheless never a permitted place for Draco. He wasn't authorised to go to many parts of the Manor without permission and never had the nerve to ask, but now he was seeing it for himself and it was beautiful.

However, Draco Malfoy was not meant to see the world as beautiful, he was supposed to see it as his property that he was to destroy. That lesson was permanently scorned into him. Any student you ask at Hogwarts would tell you that he had no care about the world and lived to ruin it. Draco wasn't just running away from his father, he was escaping being that person.

After passing through the forest and seeing green in the horizon, he finally began to think he was safe, at least in that moment. But as he reached the grass, his long blonde hair apparated a mere steps away from his face.

"Really Draco, going on a jog at this time of night?" His father spat, "Not your best idea."

Any feeling of freedom Draco has instantaneously faded as his father's forceful hand harshly grabbed his scrawny arm.

"Did you really think you could scarper from me?"

Draco began frantically shaking his head. What was he thinking? Of course he couldn't never escape, his father was too powerful. He knew he should respond, but all hope had completely drained from him. His life was never his own.

Lucius' steel boot smashed into Draco's shin, causing a groan to slip from his mouth. A swift slap was sent to remind him to never react to pain.

Lucius studied his son for a moment, scanning all of his imperfections. "Look at you, you're pathetic." Bruising fingers pressed into Draco's neck, "You're supposed to be a Malfoy, the best of the best and yet I'm still having to shape you into a real wizard. It's exhausting Draco. I should have killed you when you were a baby and you kept crying for your mummy, like a frail little mudblood, but I gave you mercy. I've spent hours of my time teaching you how to be a Malfoy heir. Yet here I find myself, with an ungrateful, foolish son."

Draco's father was right, he should be grateful, not disobeying. Lowering his head he begged "I am grateful, I just-"

"Look at me boy." As Draco began to lift his head he was met with a sharp kick to the gut. Not quick enough. Of course it wasn't. "I said LOOK AT ME." Lucius shouted, causing Draco to tremble. With no patience Lucius snatched Draco's blond hair and yanked his head up. As soon as Draco made eye contact, he was backhanded, causing his whole body to collapse in the mud.

"Very fitting." Lucius hissed. "If you were grateful you would obey me and act as I say. You definitely wouldn't embarrass me in public, break my property and then, the most senseless act of all, flee."

Sharp, shooting pain spread across Draco's forehead as the tip of his father's snake like wand screwed into it. "Well Draco what do you have to say for yourself?"

Draco couldn't do or say anything in that moment, he was caught like a deer in the headlights. He had successfully made everything worst and was sure that this was going to be his death sentence.

His father bent down so that the words he was about to say would ring in Draco's ears forever.

"Crucio."

He couldn't remember much of what happened after that, but could still feel the spasms and crunching of his brain. His father locked him in the dungeons for the rest of that summer before third year. His wand and sanity became a privilege that he had to earn back.

The walls that locked him in were draped in promises that he would never try to escape again.