Change of Heart

Interlude---3A

(AN: Okay, this chapter is the first of a few interludes that involve Draco's POV of his home life before he goes to Hogwarts for his seventh year. These chapters also include how Draco met Meg, the girl with the two sons from Chapter 2. But, be warned! This chapter, along with most of the Interlude chapters, contain issues of child abuse, which explains the rating. Don't like, skip over these chapters...you'll probably be able to figure out what's going on.)

"Are you staying behind for Christmas, 'Mione?" Ginny asked Hermione at breakfast the next day.

"Nope, sorry Ginny, my parents complained that I don't spend enough time at home and they want me in Kent for the holidays."

"So you're leaving me by myself?!" Ron mock-wailed.

"I'll still be here, Ron," Seamus called from the other side of the table.

"Um, Seamus? I didn't know you felt that way!" Harry called back.

"Well, you know me," Seamus shot back. "I feel every which way."

Ginny and Hermione, at this point, had their hands over their ears.

"Stop it, will you? You're driving me crazy!" Hermione groaned.

Suddenly, hundreds of owls came into the Great Hall. Hermione got one from her parents, telling her to take the muggle Transit to their house in Kent.

As they always did, Ginny's eyes traveled around the Great Hall, which was already in the process of being decorated. The trees or the ornaments hadn't gone up yet, but the walls were brightly decorated with garland and tinsel that was magically charmed to sparkle in the morning sunshine coming in from the enchanted ceiling.

She watched as Draco caught is piece of parchment from a tawny bird and opened it. He scanned the page, and what little color was in his pale face left it. He quickly stood and left the Great Hall.

*What was that all about?* Ginny wondered. She had been keeping an eye out for Draco since she found out what he had been doing on his weekends, and he looked really nervous this morning until he had gotten that letter, now he looked like a fairly strong wind could blow him over.

"Ginny? Ginny? Earth to Ginny, come in Ginny."

Ginny looked over at Harry.

"We have to go to class, are you coming?"

Ginny nodded and walked out with Harry, completely forgetting the incident with Draco and his letter.

*Flashback--June, the year before*

The muggy June air came through the countless windows in the Malfoy Manor, providing no relief from the bitter cold inside the house. The Malfoy Manor was one of the most respectable manors in wizarding London. However, the Manor itself was not warm and cheery, like so many of the others. It was built out of massive stone slabs, and very well constructed, but reminded anyone who saw it from a distance of a graveyard; impending doom of the person who dared to set foot in it.

In one of the many downstairs studies, a tall, imposing figure sat in a high-backed leather chair, while a short, fat man sat in a mahogany chair on the other side of the large antique desk.

"So, do you think your son will be prepared to join us, Lucius?" Goyle asked.

Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, turned his empty wine glass between his fingers idly as he spoke.

"If I say he will be, he will be. I have told him to be prepared for it sometime this summer. I have informed the Dark Lord, and he is pleased. He will accept him personally," he drawled, and it was easy to see where Draco had gotten most of his looks from. If one was to look at Lucius and Draco side by side, one would think they were brothers; they looked exactly alike, except for the fact that Lucius, although very handsome indeed, had eyes that were cold and hard, and reminded you of pieces of blue ice.

If it was true that the eyes were the window to the soul, Lucius Malfoy's was frozen over.

"You don't think---he has the idea--- to refuse?" Goyle hesitantly asked.

Lucius set the glass down and gave Goyle the impending death glare that Draco was so famous for at Hogwarts.

"He is too afraid not to refuse. His mother tries to keep him from what she calls the 'Dark Side' of magic, and she will have to be punished. I can use Narcissa to make Draco agree, but only if I must. He has this bond with his mother, and that must be broken." For a second, something flickered behind Lucius' icy blue eyes, but Goyle thought he must've imagined it, because they were back to ice again.

"Speaking of which, where is my darling son?" Lucius said, though the term of endearment were twisted into sarcasm.

"Lagos!" Lucius barked to one of the house elves standing nearby. The tiny house-elf stumbled forward.

"Y---yes, Master?" Lagos stuttered.

"Go find my son and bring him to me. Do not come back until you have found him."

Lagos hurried out of the room.

*~*

Draco was sitting out in the courtyard by the western wall, his knees curled up to his chest as he stared out at the vast acres of land without really seeing them. He was, in his mind, devising a way for him and his mother to escape the Malfoy Manor and go live in West Hogsmede or someplace, so he could finish school and she could sit and not worry about Lucius ever beating her ever again. He could get a job after Hogwarts, but where? An Auror? Probably not. What if he ran into his father during an Auror raid? He wasn't sure he could fight him; hell, he couldn't even stand up to him *now*, let alone in a few years.

"Master Draco! Master Draco!"

Draco was startled out of his thoughts by Lagos, his father's personal house-elf.

"Master---Master Lucius is wanting to see you right away, Sir!" Lagos panted.

Draco stood, brushed the dirt off his robes, and reluctantly followed the three-foot tall servant into the dungeons.

His palms were sweating and his stomach was clamping up into knots as he entered his father's personal study. It was not as large as the Library, which had amassed a large amount of leather-bound books, most of them featuring the finer points of the Dark Arts; Lucius never believed in Muggle literature, believing it was all "fairy tales", and Draco had become bored with the musty books very quickly when he was a small child.

He swallowed, and then walked fully into the room, the light from the fireplace reflected in his steely gray eyes. Only someone looking for it could see the apprehension in his eyes as he approached his father.

"Ah, finally. Draco, I wish to discuss something with you," Lucius said, waving Goyle away and gesturing for Draco to sit in the spot that Goyle had just left. Draco sat, wondering nervously what he did this time. His father hated him, and only asked for him if he wanted to punish Draco.

*God, don't let it be my grades--- I was highest in Slytherin house, but Granger's a lot smarter than I am.*

"Do you know what this is?" Lucius asked in a dangerously low voice as he held up a piece of parchment.

*Oh, shit.*

"No, father," Draco said truthfully.

"This is a grade report from your sixth year. You had the highest marks in Slytherin house, but not in the whole school. I demand to know why," Lucius said, his voice never changing.

*Here it comes.*

"Well, father...The---mudblood---Granger---"

Lucius stood. "Are you telling me that that damn mudblood filth beat you in exams for the fifth year in a row?"

"I---"

Lucius cut him off. "I don't want to hear excuses. Excuses are just falsehoods to cover the truth. I don't want to hear about any halfblood girls beating you in anything ever again."

"Father, I understand, but I---" Draco abruptly shut his mouth. Bad move. If there was one thing that Draco leaned very quickly as a child, it was never to contradict his father.

Lucius took his wand out of his pocket.

"Father, please---"

"Crucio."

Draco would've thought that he'd be used to this constant vicious cycle: the Cruciatus curse, then if Lucius was drunk or angry enough, he would get down and start beating him by hand. Draco hoped to God that he wasn't angry enough to bring his mother into this; that would mean more bruises and cuts for Draco, as he would gladly take his mother's beating if he was still standing from his own.

The pain was back, with twice as much intensity as it usually was. Draco just braced himself, and hoped that his father wasn't too drunk yet, so it would be over quickly.

It wasn't. The five minutes that Draco was under the curse felt like days. When his father let him off, Draco felt a few of the usual bruises start to form on his back and something that felt like water going down his arm.

He opened his eyes to see that it was not water, but blood flowing freely down his arm. At some point, he must've knocked his father's wine glass over and cut himself on it. He curled up on the floor.

*Please, please let it be over,* he prayed.

But to no avail. His father kicked him in the side, and Draco felt something crack under his father's steel-tipped boots.

"Get up, you pathetic excuse for a son. Get up and fight me like a man."

Draco struggled to pull himself up to a sitting position. "I won't fight you, father." He knew better. The last time he had tried to fight his father, he had ended up in Mungo's.

His father struck him across the face. "You won't be a man? Well, at least you're not trying to be something you aren't for once. But you will get up. Imperio."

Draco felt all of his pain melt away. It was bliss. He relaxed, and heard a little voice in the back of his head say, *Just get up.*

He knew better than to fight it. He stood up...

...and instantly regretted it. His father struck him across his already badly bruised back.

"Is that all you have in you, Draco?" His father laughed, calmly conjuring up a handkerchief and cleaning Draco's blood off of his own knuckles.

"You are just a pathetic boy. Get out of my sight," Lucius said, and sat down in his leather chair again like nothing had happened. Draco didn't know where he found the strength, but picked himself up and stumbled out of the luxurious study.