Draco awoke, and for a moment, was convinced he was dead. He silently scolded himself for not performing healing spells last night to avoid the stiffness. He knew he could not heal himself fully; Lucius would be furious if his marks disappeared so quickly. The ones that were covered by clothing, however, could have been healed.

He shifted pillows behind him to prop himself into a sitting position. He quickly set about feeling his ribs, and healed three broken ones, before muttering a spell to aid in the scabbing on his back. He brought his fingers to his face for a moment, and felt a gash with some bruising. Father will be pleased. He took a deep breath before finding the strength to stand and let out a groan. I'd kill for a painkiller.

Slowly but surely, Draco made his way to his bathroom and let out another involuntary groan at the sight that lay before him. His hair lay matted with blood and there was a cut above his eyebrow opposite of the gash he had felt earlier. He hadn't realized before now, but he had fallen asleep in last night's clothes, so he stared at himself in a shredded white button down and blood-encrusted black slacks. He shuddered as the events of the last night came rushing back to him. Assessing injuries one by one was easy; impersonal, factual. Taking in his whole disheveled appearance made him feel…weak. Poor father's special tie has gone missing he thought in an attempt to distract himself. He tore off the clothes without another thought and jumped into the shower. Hissing as the hot water hit his back, he turned to face it. Grabbing shampoo off a shelf, he slowly worked it through his hair to wash the blood away. He glanced down and watch the red water spiral down the drain, satisfied. He grabbed a loofah and began to wash his front half, careful around the bruised areas. Several minutes later he finished, placing the loofah back on its hook. Gritting his teeth, he turned so that his back faced the water. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt pain radiate from his back. He stood there, feeling and thinking of nothing but the pain, until he couldn't stand it for a second longer. He turned off the water and sighed at the relief it brought him. He reached outside the shower and grabbed the towel he always kept there. Gingerly, he toweled off as much as he could stand it before stepping out of the shower with his towel wrapped around him.

He was greeted by several oddities. His discarded clothes were nowhere to be seen, which he expected, but someone had set out clothes for the day. Secondly, there was a jar of scar salve, to prevent scarring, white bandages, and some unidentifiable liquid in a steaming mug. Draco surveyed the scene, face impassive, until his eyes settled on his last surprise.

"Tiki?"

"Oh little Master, sir, Tiki did not mean to upset youse by bringing these things—"

Draco wasn't even listening. He was too busy trying to sort through his whirling emotions: surprise, shock, annoyance…relief?

"Tiki, stop."

Tiki's eyes widened as she stopped talking. Draco regarded her for a second, struggling, before he sighed.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

If it were possible, Tiki's eyes widened further. "Tiki doesn't understand, sir."

"I know my father, Tiki. Don't bother pretending."

Tiki sighed, clearly uncomfortable, and began wringing her hands. "Master Malfoy was only doing his job teaching Tiki to not be so rude and disrespectful, disgracing his-"

Draco couldn't help but cringe again, realizing those were the same words his father liked to use against him. Hatred raised the hairs on the back of his neck, but there was no discernable change to his expression.

"Family name," he finished for her. "I know his speech. What I mean is, are you injured?"

Tiki shook her head no, "I was, little Master, but Tiki used her magic to heal her injuries," she said, but with no response, she continued bravely "Tiki was noticing last night that little sir was hurt, and Tiki felt so bad she just had to try and help so she waited until youse got in the shower and gathered some things…"

Draco wasn't sure how to react. He wanted to be disgusted with needing help, but he couldn't help but feel overwhelming gratitude to this small elf that had once again risked her safety for him. He had been more careful over the summer because he had been worried his mother would discover his father's behavior. He realized in the very last days of summer, however, that she did not care. Tiki was willing to do more for him than his own mother.

He shook his head slightly, "Well…thanks." He would've liked to say more, but his pride wouldn't allow him.

That was all the little elf required, however, as she beamed up at him happily.

"Little master does not need to be thanking Tiki, but she was happy to help!"

Draco allowed a small smile to grace his features for a second, schooling his features as he said "just promise me you'll stay safe."

Tiki beamed again as she processed Draco's concern for her well-being. She nodded vigorously and disappeared with a small pop.

Draco, now alone, allowed the small smile back. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cared for him, nevermind going out of their way for him. With these thoughts keeping him company, he drank the steaming mug, not questioning the elf, and felt all the stiffness melt away. It was a miracle. Feeling infinitely better, Draco applied the salve to his back and layered bandages onto it. Satisfied that the worst of his injuries were taken care of for the time being, he slipped on the dark jeans and grey t-shirt Tiki had set out and left the bathroom feeling halfway decent.

As he made his way down the stairs, Draco strained to hear if his parents were around. Determining the kitchen sounded empty, he strode in and surveyed the room. He only ever came into the kitchen for breakfast or to grab a quick lunch; dinner was almost always a family affair and was served in the dining room. Glancing at the gleaming stainless-steel appliances, which Draco had never had to learn how to use, he made his way towards the island that held a breakfast plate with a stasis charm. He pulled up a chair and ate quickly, the well-prepared toast, eggs, and home fries hardly registering as his thoughts were otherwise occupied.

I wonder what will happen when I run into father next. He could pretend nothing happened, expecting me to do the same. Or he could brag about how well he's teaching me, expecting me to do the same. There's really no way around it, so I might as well play this by ear. Maybe mother will comment. He laughed quietly to himself at that. That would require her to act like her own person instead of father's puppet.

Finishing his breakfast, Draco decided the best way to spend his day would be in the Malfoys' potions lab. He needed to brew some more dreamless sleep to bring back to school. Standing and leaving the dirty plate where it sat, Draco walked out of the room and towards the potions lab. He ran into no one on the way there, thankfully, and realized when he reached the big mahogany doors that he had been holding his breath. Opening the doors, and shutting them behind him, made him feel much lighter.

The potions lab was impressive, to say the least. Shelves lined 3 of the walls all the way up to the ceiling, filled with every sort of ingredient one could need, most of them legal. The fourth wall, which he currently faced, held a door to the storeroom, which Draco never dared to touch should his father blame him for something missing. He shuddered to himself. This is my space, father wouldn't hurt me here. He didn't know if he really believed that, but it didn't hurt to try.

Gathering the ingredients off the shelves, he had long ago memorized what was needed for a dreamless sleep potion, he set to work crushing the wormwood. He allowed himself to think of nothing in particular as he let his hands work. Potions brought a sense of calm over him that was quite welcome after a night with his father. Most people use alcohol to solve that issue. He smiled again wishing it were possible for him to brew firewhiskey. He didn't dare to drink it at home, being inebriated near his father was asking for death, but he would get drunk with his so-called friends every now and then at school. He didn't see the big deal, he was 15 years old, and alcoholism was the least of his worries. He'd sooner die due to blunt force trauma.

The deep purple of his potion caught his attention, and he poured it off into smaller vials before capping them and starting again. By the time he had brewed 3 batches, he guessed it was nearly time for dinner, so he stored the completed potion on an empty ingredient shelf he had long ago decided was his own and set off for his room to change into more formal clothes for dinner.

Ten feet away from his room, his mother stopped him to tell him dinner would be served in 10 minutes, and that he better not be late. Draco heard the warning in her words and covered the distance to his room in seconds, throwing the door open and changing into grey slacks and a white button down. He noticed his ripped shirt had been replaced and that his black slacks looked as good as new. He wondered briefly if he had Tiki to thank before walking briskly from his room down to the dining room. His mother was already seated, glass of red wine in hand, but his father was nowhere in sight.

Draco sat down, and Narcissa said "he's finishing up a meeting, but told us to start without him."

Draco nodded, unsurprised; his father was almost always late even though he tolerated tardiness from no one. He took his seat and within seconds food appeared in front of both him and his mother; lambchops and string beans. They ate in silence, until his father walked in 15 minutes after they began eating. He nodded to his mother before turning his eyes to Draco, and Draco got goosebumps as he saw the corner of Lucius' mouth twitch up at the sight of Draco's injured face. I knew that would please the bastard. Tiki brought out Lucius' food, keeping her eyes down and her ears flat to her head the whole time. Draco didn't move a muscle, praying his father had no cause to pick a fight tonight. Thankfully, she made it away unscathed and Draco practically cheered before quickly scolding himself. I can't afford to care about her. He'll use it against me and I already have enough weaknesses. Anxiety turned his stomach suddenly and Draco felt his hands begin to tremble against his will. Cursing himself, he tried to take exaggeratedly slow breaths without drawing attention to himself. Since his parents only noticed him when it suited them, it worked. Confident he could pick up his fork again, he continued eating, as Lucius decided to turn his attention to him.

"So, Draco, in what horribly unproductive way did you keep yourself out of your mother's way today?"

Face void of any expression, Draco simply responded, "Brewing."

"Ah, I see," his father said, although his eyes held a glint of something sinister, "Brewing something useful I hope?"

"Dreamless sleep."

"Why on earth would you need dreamless sleep, Draco?" Lucius purred.

Draco felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks, but continued to keep any emotion off his face. "It's not-"

"I'll have no son of mine using potions to cover up his problems. Face them like a Malfoy."

"It's not for me," Draco said, having an idea, "it's for Pansy." Draco knew his parents liked her.

"Oh, Pansy! How has she been?" his mother jumped in, ever curious about potential gossip.

So Draco appeased her, giving her seemingly trivial details about his interactions with Pansy. He could feel Lucius' cold stare on him, but chose to ignore it, giving his attention solely to his mother. Dinner passed quickly in this fashion, and Draco was grateful for it. Before he knew it, he was scraping the last of his tiramisu off his plate and his mother was talking to Lucius about Bellatrix's issues with Rodolphus. Seeing it as an opportunity, Draco asked to be excused and his mother simply nodded in his direction. Standing, Draco turned to leave but before he could bolt out the door his father's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"If it's not too much to ask, Draco, I was hoping you'd be so kind as to head to my study after dinner. There are a few things we need to discuss in relation to the rest of Christmas break."

Draco turned and managed to choke out a "yes, sir," before bolting from the room, needing a minute to collect himself. Being brought to the dungeon was one thing; untold physical injuries occurred there, and not just against Draco. His father's study was a whole other beast. Lucius Malfoy was a wizard, and as he so often liked to remind Draco, he did not need to strike the younger Malfoy to cause pain. As a former Death Eater Lucius had a slew of dark spells at his disposal and Draco knew firsthand that Lucius had no issue using the Unforgivable Curses against his son. Shuddering at this thought, he rolled his shoulders twice, popped his knuckles, and walked as confidently as he could towards Lucius Malfoy's study.

xXx

Sitting anxiously in his father's study, Malfoy's mind raced with every possible scenario that could play out. He's only ever punished me to teach a lesson. I can't think of anything I've done wrong. A small voice in Draco's head told him his father was beyond reason, and that if he didn't have a reason he could create one, but Draco didn't encourage it.He did decide, however, that there was no use guessing. His father was as unpredictable as they come. He would just have to hope that he could endure whatever it was his father was planning on throwing at him. I mean that strictly in the metaphorical sense, if there's a god listening.

Before Draco had time to wonder if he'd lost his mind, Lucius swept into the room. Without turning around he cast a locking spell at the door and settled into the chair behind his desk, completely at ease.

"Now, Draco, do you know why you're here?"

Draco hesitated before answering, deciding it would be worse to lie. "No, sir."

"Hmm. I'd always had high hopes for you, as my only son. It's terrible you have turned out to be so…utterly disappointing."

Draco hated the feeling of hurt that rushed through him. I don't care what the bastard thinks of me.

"I understand, sir."

"I don't think you do. Not yet, anyways. But I am a very patient man, Draco, and your mother and I have decided that I should help you before you become a complete disgrace to the family name."

Draco looked up quickly, but stayed quiet.

"Of course, if you think yourself above my help…"

Draco wanted to scream that he was. He wanted to bolt from the room, from the Manor, and never look back. But he was weak, and his father knew this.

"No, sir, I need your help."

"Excellent," Lucius purred, a sadistic smiling twisting his features. Draco felt his blood run cold.

"First, let us… establish a few points."

"How do we feel about wizards or witches born to non-magical parents, Draco?"

There was no thought required for this answer; it had been drilled into him since he was old enough to talk. Hating how much he sounded like his father, Draco recited, "Mudbloods are a filthy breed who should not be allowed to fraternize or coexist with true witches and wizards."

"Very good, Draco. Now tell me, what do mudbloods deserve?"

This was a strange question to Draco; he wasn't sure what his father was getting at. "Well they certainly don't deserve our respect, or our time, or even recognition as magical beings."

"So, in your own opinion, they are not worth kindness or decency?"

Draco swallowed hard. Are those really my opinions? "No, sir, they are not."

"Well done. We will begin in the dungeons. Follow me."

Where the hell is this leading?

A/N: Hi again! I'm going on vacation for a long weekend so I figured I would update before I left. Thanks for all your support!