A Dragon's Revenge

Nightfall. The light summer breeze swept gently through the trees in the grounds at Malfoy Mansion. Yet, something was different. The usually tranquil surroundings were forgotten as the shouts and screams of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy grew louder by the second.

Draco sat under a large willow tree, knees to his chest with his head down. He did not weep, but sighed. Something had changed in his absence, something serious, yet as always, Draco was kept in the dark as if he did not exist. Although he was used to it, he could not shake the growing anxiety from his heart.

As the deafening shouts subsided, he slowly rose from the ground, causing his usually slicked back, blond hair to fall forward onto his face, faintly covering his watery blue eyes.

He walked gradually back to the mansion, fearing what he would he find when he opened the heavy wooden door.

The eerie silence that engulfed him in the hallway proceeded to unnerve him further. He approached the drawing room door and rested his trembling hand on the serpent-like handle, opening the door

The door swung on its hinges and Draco gasped. His mother, a tall slim witch with flowing blond hair was curled up in a corner. Blood smeared her face and her hair was bloody and knotted. There were rips all over her robes, and she sat there shaking whilst crying uncontrollably.

"Mother, mother! Are you alright? What happened?" Draco asked, running over to her whilst trying not to look at the bloodstained wall in front of him.

"Dr....Draco....Just go....upstairs....or something! I'm alright....darling!" she answered breathlessly and forced one of her perfect smiles.

"No mother, I won't leave you!" Draco stated, clenching his fists in fury.

"Darling....there's been enough of that tonight!" she said, clasping her swollen hands around Draco's.

"You can't keep letting him get away with this!" Draco exclaimed, trying desperately to sound calm, but unfortunately not succeeding.

"Dragon, don't talk like that! He's your father!" Narcissa whispered trying to calm her livid son.

Draco said nothing, but lifted his mother's frail form from the woodblock floor and guided her up the elaborate staircase to her room.

He sat her down on the ornate rocking chair; a chair he was most fond of as a child, summoned a basin of essence of Murtlap for her, kissed her on the cheek and left the room looking murderous.

He walked briskly through the lavishly furnished corridors up to the fourth floor, ignoring the portrait of his formidable Great Grandfather; Vladimir Malfoy II reprimanding him and grumbling cantankerously about the youth of today.

Draco stopped in front of an ornamental suit of armour. He gingerly plucked the weighty mace from the gauntleted hands.

He turned the corner, gripping the mace so tightly his knuckles were turning a marble white. Breathing deeply he approached the study door. Time seemed to freeze, and blood pounded in his ears as the door swung silently open.

Clutching the mace tightly, Draco swung it high over his head and jammed his eyes shut at the last second. The only thing that informed him of what he'd done was the sickening crack made on impact.

He progressively opened his eyes, unclasping his fingers in the process, letting his blood-spattered weapon fall freely to the floor with a thud.

Draco reflected, as he left the study, that red was a good colour for that room!