9. The Murder

WARNING: This chapter contains abuse. If you think that you might get upset, please be careful!

How fitting that it should rain. The wind and water pour down around my mother and I as we hurry from the Knight Bus with our heads bowed and the hoods of our cloaks pulled up to cover our faces. I hold the door of the Leaky Cauldron open for Mother, and stand in a shivering puddle as she purchases Floo Powder from Tom. This is it… we're really going back to Malfoy Manor. Just a few more moments, and we'll be stepping right back into my father's vindictive grasp.

I wonder what he'll do first. Beat my mother, perhaps? Or maybe he'll go straight for me. He might choose to use his typical leather strap, but then again, he might desire something a little more "hands on". Perhaps he'll chain me in the downstairs dungeon and simply punch and hit me until I'm black and blue. Or he might decide to cut to the chase and start things out with a simple Cruciatus. I wouldn't put it past him.

Mother beckons me forward, reaching with a trembling hand into Tom the Barkeeper's small satchel and drawing out a fistful of shimmering powder. "Go right after me, Draco. Don't wait too long—just until the fire goes back to normal, alright dear?"

"Yeah. Sure." I shrug, trying to mask my terror with indifference. She takes a deep breath and tosses the powder into the roaring fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. The flames spiral upwards in a green wall, and she steps into their midst with a look of pale determination.

"Malfoy Manor." My mother is engulfed in the fire, and a few moments later I know that it's my turn.

I can't help but think, as I take a handful of the Floo Powder and slowly approach the grate, about what condition Mother might be in by the time I make the journey. Father works with fast brutality, and in the few minutes time that will occur between her arrival and mine, he could easily knock her senseless, or worse. I let the glittery dust fall from my fingers, and it almost seems to work in slow motion, turning each individual flame green with breathtakingly precise downtempo. I close my eyes and walk straight into the enormous fireplace, ignoring the gentle flutter of the harmless fire as I struggle to form the words that I know I must speak. "Malfoy Manor." I manage, and immediately find myself being whirled along at a dizzying pace.

With a thud, the grate coughs me up and I find myself standing in the ashes of my old parlor fireplace. Mother sits on the black leather easy chair before me, with my father's hands clasped firmly around her mouth to prevent her from crying out. "Hello, son." His voice is horrible—so smooth and manipulative, but dangerous enough to kill.

"Good evening, Father." I brush off my cloak, coughing up a small amount of soot but still managing to sound steady.

"Sit down." He gestures to the long couch beside my mother's seat and I stride over to it, keeping my pace as grand and even as possible. "Let's talk about your little escapades this past week, shall we Narcissa?" Father raises his eyebrows slightly, looking down into my mother's teary face with a sadistic smile. She nods in weak consent beneath his restraining fingers. "You and your bastard little son thought that you could escape me—your rightful owner and protector—didn't you?" Mother doesn't move. Father wheels on me with a look of ferocity, his long sliver-blond hair swinging slightly as his grey eyes narrow. "Since this useless woman seems to have been struck not only dumb but also incapable of movement, you can have the pleasure of answering me Draco."

I blink rapidly, trying to scrape up a plausible and pleasing lie that will hopefully abate my father's anger enough to save our skins. "Father, at first we held such notions, but as time passed it became increasingly clear to us that you are all powerful and escape was fu-"

"Save me the useless flattery, boy. A simple 'yes' or 'no' will suffice."

I raise my chin, staring into my father's cold face with as much bravery as I can muster. I figure I'm doing pretty bleeding well for not being a Gryffindor. "Yes." There—I said it. Hopefully he won't kill us both.

Father tilts his head back, smiling broadly as he narrows his eyes in prideful evaluation. "I knew it." He clasps his hands together suddenly, laughing boisterously as he turns back to Mother, who is still trembling and mute even without his fingers covering her mouth. "I knew it! You stupid, stupid woman. I thought that you were better than this! I thought that you were better than this when I married you, Cissy." He takes a step towards her, his hands curling and uncurling into fists.

"Don't touch my mother." I stand, invigorated by a vivid flash of recollection—the memory of my father beating the two witches who I love more than any others. Hermione and Mother were so brave that day, and I failed to do my manly duty and protect them. It was the women who saved my life, but I figure that it's high time I step up to the plate. I'm a Slytherin—we almost always choose the option that benefits us the most, which typically ends in "wimping out"- but maybe tonight I'll pretend that I'm a member of the Golden Trio. Just this once I'm brave and selfless, able to defeat the bad guys and have dashing escapades of foolhardy valiance without getting hurt.

"Really? You think that you can order me around, Draco? Are you the father all of a sudden, and I the disobedient child?"

Forget bravery. Forget the Golden Trio. I want to Disapparate into a little safe cupboard and hide for the rest of my life… but I can't give up. I can't let my mother down again. "No. But I do think that I can protect my mum from a monster like you—and I will, even if I die trying!"

My father laughs again much to my disgust. "Well, have at it then." He jerks my mother to her feet, digging his nails into her shoulder and shaking her before my line of vision. "Are you giving your best to save her, Draco? Perhaps you are—I've seen your efforts before and they're pitiful."

My face contorts in anger and I prepare to spit out a furious retort, but Mother raises her voice to silence me. "Sit down, Draco. Sit down right now—let your father do as he pleases." Her tone constricts as Father lifts her slightly from the ground, smiling venomously. His wand moves so fast that I barely catch the swift gesture with which he slices deep cuts over her collarbone. Mother cries out, the blood beginning to trickle down her bosom.

"P-put her d-down! Take me i-instead. Do whatever you p-please, just use m-me! If you have to kill someone… kill me." I plead, stumbling over my words as I attempt to keep the fear from poisoning my mind.

Father drops Mother like a stone, and she cowers on her knees, retching weakly. "I wouldn't want to kill you, Draco. You- as much of a disgusting failure as you are- are my only method for carrying the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy on. This woman, however, is sterile and therefore of no more use to the family."

I've known that my mother can't have any more children since I was little… but the thought that Father sees nothing more in his own wife and son than a conveyance of the pureblood line actually surprises me.

"Lucius… please…" Mother raises her tear stained face to his, stretching out her hands. "We were so deep in love once…."

"Were we?" Father smiles slowly, the glint of malice in his cold eyes almost rooting me to the ground in fear. "I must have forgotten. Avada Kedavra." The green light fills the room, and the life leaves my mother's eyes without a sound. Father pockets his wand, stepping over her body and from the room. He pauses for a moment at the door, not bothering to look back as he addresses me. "You'll be attending Durmstrang from now on, Draco. I hope that you'll take these remaining days of summer to prepare for the upcoming term. Make sure that you don't disappoint me again."

I drop to my knees over my mother's still form, tracing her face with my hands in shock and terror. He killed her. Lucius Malfoy killed his own wife with one of the unforgivable curses, and he didn't even glance back at her body. "Mum?" For a split second, I almost hope that she has somehow survived, but no one has ever managed to do that. No one but Potter. My mother would, of course, not be so fortunate. "I'm so sorry." I don't cry as I slip my fingers over her eyelids, closing them for the last time. If it wasn't for the cuts and bruises, she could almost be asleep, and I like to think of it as that way. I blink, wishing that I knew of some way to express the pain that I feel, that I could burst out into the wild sobs befitting this deprivation. I can't.

My heart beats almost sluggishly as I lift my mother, stretching her on the leather couch. I stare unfeelingly at her, picturing the way that she would recline on the low white couches in our front room back… home. I guess that the grief will hit me later, perhaps when I'm in my huge four-poster bed tonight I'll realize that she's actually gone—that I'll never see her again as long as I live. She'll never wake me up with a cheerful "Good morning, sleepyhead!" She'll never leave me little notes or call me "Darling". She won't even make a tray of blueberry muffins for breakfast. I'll never taste her slightly burnt salmon again.

I actually smile, God knows why. It seems partially irreverent to express joy at a moment like this, but I do anyway. One last smile in memory of her love and laughter. I figure that Father will deal with her body. Transfigure her into a slip of paper and toss her into the fire, like as not. By the time that I'm off to Durmstrang in a few days, there will most certainly be nothing left of Narcissa Malfoy but a memory.

I turn from the room, feeling weighted down like never before. I truly am alone in every sense of the word. Perhaps I'll make friends at Durmstrang, but then again I probably won't. I'm not sure if I want to get close to anyone ever again. I pull Hermione's photo from my pocket, staring in awe at her happy, unblemished face. "Someday." I vow aloud, gazing into her dark eyes with a tiny flame of purpose. "Someday, Hermione Granger, I will kiss your lips again."

A/N: Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to review! I love you all. Also, I don't own Harry Potter (which ya'll should know by now), and this is completely OOC. Narcissa is not a saint, and Lucius is not a complete monster- they are both flawed (but very much in love) human beings, at least according to my honest opinion. I know that I haven't portrayed that through this particular story, but I'd still like you to be clear on where my personal opinion stands.