Dragon's Tears

Father and Son

We never get to choose the parents we get, and most of us become used to them. We see the way they are as normal. After all, we have nothing else to compare them to. They can be cruel, but we still want them nearby in the night to run to, even after being rebuffed again and again. They can hit us, ignore us, curse us, and still we want their attention. We can't help it. They're the only parents we have. And we want their love.

Some might say that I was particularly lucky to get the parents I did. Others are quite thankful that they did not have my luck. Once, I agreed with the former, but now... Now I wish that I'd never been born at all.

And someday, I hope to make my father wish it, too.

My father. Lucius Malfoy.

My early childhood was much what any child dreams of. Malfoy Manor is immense, nearly a castle, and I was never without toys or playmates. Anything my avaricious little heart desired was mine. I had the newest and best of everything. My father loomed large in my life those first few years. Anything I did was commended. And immediately rewarded. He passed on to me the Malfoy family history, and Rules for Life. However, I also spent time with my mother when father wasn't around. She too, was from a great pure-blooded line, and she passed on many things about them to me.

Unfortunately, those idyllic days did not last long. By the time I was six, I was expected to practice magics that were not even taught at Hogwarts, though I often heard my father say that I would be going to a much better school so I could continue my studies in Dark magics. The lessons were interesting, but difficult for a child who had little control over how strong his magic could be. And when I failed in my task...The punishments were never good.

My only playmates in those days were those approved by my father. Children who came from families as wealthy as our own. Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe were the most frequent visitors, and though their company was dull at best, and annoying at worst, I put up with them, contenting myself that I would find better friends when I got to Hogwarts.

There was another child that I had never met who was still a constant companion through those early years: Harry Potter. Everything I did was compared to him. My father was constantly telling me how I just couldn't stack up. After all, he was the Boy Who Lived. He had survived the unsurvivable. Avada Kedavra. And he had not even been two. Yet I was unable to break the hold of the Imperious curse when father cast it upon me. I was weak, I was pitiful, and I could never possibly compete with him. How I hated him.

I did manage to escape the fate of attending Durmstrang, though. Mother, never a strong woman when it came to my father, was quick to leap to my defense when my letter accepting me to Hogwarts arrived. She knew I did not want to go to Durmstrang, and she was actually willing to suffer for me to attend the school I wanted. So I attended Hogwarts. My years there were some of the best years of my life. Despite a certain dark-haired, green-eyed goody-goody. Father had told me to try to cultivate his friendship, but after being rebuffed twice, I discovered that I actually quite enjoyed being his rival much more. I was the top of every class, aside from those I shared with the mudblood who always hung around with him.

Summers were spent back under my father's thumb, and more and more I was compared to that other boy, the hero of the wizarding world. Every effort I made was not enough. I was in misery. It seemed that there was no way to please my father.

I had always admired my father. He was perfect, powerful--everything I wanted to be when I grew up. But as I got older, I discovered that my "perfect" father was far from that. It all started shortly before my second year, in a little shop I had drug my father into the day we went to get my school supplies from Diagon Alley.

Usually, when we were in public, father's punishments were more subdued. But this year, he seemed especially impatient, so anything I did was met in the very least with derision and scorn, and often with a smack from his leather-clad hand or his silver-headed cane. After father made a quick stop at Borgen and Burkes, I insisted we visit one of my favourite shops--aside from Quality Quidditch Supplies, that is. It was a little place called Notable Notions, a little trinket shop that sold everything from crystal and china dishes to antique toys. I loved to go there, because I never knew what I would find.

I had gone to the back of the shop and discovered a wonderful set of army men that were shooting at each other when my father came up behind me. He raised his cane, and I covered my face to shield it from the blow, but it never fell. When I snuck a look from behind my hands, I discovered him lying sprawled across the floor, staring up at some woman. She glared down at him, then laughed, taunting him.

I was awestruck. A woman had struck down my father? She turned and strode past me, winking as she did so, and disappeared from the store. I would soon mark this day in my life as a dark one, but at the time, it left me feeling quite light-hearted. She was gorgeous, and I think I found myself a little enamored of her. Besides, if a woman could do that to my father, I had hope. That moment stuck in my mind for a long time.

I hurried to his side and helped him up, knowing that if I did not, I would be severely punished later. After father had recovered his dignity a bit, we left the store and joined what we found was a growing crowd inside Flourish and Blotts. And, I soon discovered, Potter and his hangers-on. I tried desperately to control my anger at his prancing, but soon found it was unnecessary for me to do so. It seemed that Weasel's father was also at the store. He and my father had been at each other's throats for many years, and it was not long before they were throwing punches at each other as though they were no more than common Muggles. Though father sustained minor injuries, as we swept from the store, I noticed an odd grin on his face, but I did not feel courageous enough to ask why.

That trip to Diagon Ally resonated beyond that day, as I was to discover later that year. But it resonated in more ways than one. I knew that my father had mistresses. Many of them, in fact. Not a few of which were my classmates' mothers. But somehow, when I learned the next summer of my father's new playmate, I was horrified to discover that it was the same woman we had seen the summer before in the trinket shop. Mother expounded on how she had arrived at the New Year's masque she and father attended each year, dressed in mother's words "In barely enough cloth to cover her bits." I learned from my mother that the woman had then had the audacity to get herself invited to a dinner they had attended at the Minister's house, and that she had proceeded to seduce father, "At the dinner table, no less! The hussy."

However, I did not see any signs of my father's infidelity that summer. He was as harsh as always, and ever-present, so I simply assumed that father had simply spent too much time with the woman at the two parties, and mother had been jealous of the attentions he had spent on her.

But the next summer I saw for myself just how besotted father had become. The days he was home, he was dreamy and distant, though if I brought myself to his attentions, he immediately resumed his usual demeanor, berating me and telling me what I was doing wrong. Aside from this, though, there were days, and even a couple weeks that summer when he would simply disappear without a word, and when he reappeared, he seemed more dreamy then before.

As I watched this little travesty, my anger began to grow. Father could not bring himself to say a kind word for me or mother, but this woman had him wrapped in knots. Apparently, he was willing to be at her beck and call, while we were unfit to lick his shoes.

At school, I sank myself into schoolwork. My head of house, Professor Snape, had become like a second father to me. He too, hated that green-eyed git as much as I did, and I delighted in watching him tower over the fool, and take points by the dozens from his house as the boy ground his teeth to keep from responding.

Third year passed by quickly, and fourth as well, each with far too much of the wizarding world's attention spent on that green-eyed git. The summer between them was little different, with father disappearing for much of the time. But the events of the final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament would change all that.

When I arrived home that summer, expecting to find a happy and powerful father once more, I was horrified to discover that the return of my father's master had only seemed to weaken him more. When he knew I was around, he was still abrupt and scolding. However, I had found ways to spy on my father due to the events of the summer of my third year. Now I watched him grovel to his master when he thought I was not around. And I was horrified to find that my father, the man I had always seen as utterly in control, was reduced to little better than a sniveling, whining house-elf.

I waited patiently for him to approach me about becoming a Death Eater. It was, after all, what I had always been promised. That I would take my place at my father's side, and that together we would be among the most powerful wizards in the world. But whenever I tried to bring it up, father quickly shut me down. Told me not to mention it, and that some questions were better left unasked. When I persisted, I was sent to my room to stew. Did he think me so unworthy? I was certain I could stand up to his master. Probably better than father could himself. The coward. He probably just didn't want me to out-do him.

The summer passed in a haze of anger. Until my letter arrived. I was made a prefect. Father was well pleased. For the first time since I was a young boy, he showered me with gifts. There was a solid gold and silver wizard's chess set with a promise from Father that he would play with me sometime soon; a brand new pair of dragon-skin shoes; and a set of 4 miniature soldiers that shot tiny bullets at one another. When I opened this last present, I was surprised at the odd look on Father's face. As though the soldiers should mean something to me. But all I could think was that he still saw me as a child. It infuriated me.

However, my mood quickly improved when I discovered to my utter delight that Potter not only had not been made a prefect, but he had nearly been expelled. This greatly improved my mood. I was beside myself. This would be my year.

But when I arrived at school, I began to wonder if I was wrong. Sure, the martyr of the wizard world seemed more depressed than usual, and sure I got to watch Snape bully him in our very first class together, but he still had far too many followers for my taste. Despite what the Daily Prophet had been saying about him all summer. Then I heard about his blow-up against our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. Father had spoken of the woman, so I knew she was from the Ministry, and that she was there to watchdog that Muggle-loving freak Dumbledore, but I was thrilled to discover that she hated the Boy Who Lived as well. I delighted in hearing the rumors that were being spread about the freak, and made sure to pass them along, adding bits of my own.

I was especially thrilled to provide her with a reason to toss him from the Gryffindor team. A lifetime ban! That was sure to get father's attention. Yet still, he ignored me. As though he were hiding me from his master. I was furious.

I redoubled my efforts.

Then, shortly before May, my world collapsed around me. As I was walking to the library early one evening, I saw Professor McGonagall, carrying a baby along with her usual stack of books. Curious as to what a baby would be doing at Hogwarts, I decided to investigate. As I passed, I quietly cast a spell that caused some of the books she was carrying to fall to the floor. I heard her growl to herself, then she turned to see me standing there and shoved the baby in my arms. "Here, hold her for a minute, please?" She turned back away from me to pick up the books.

As I looked down at the child, I was horrified to discover that she looked almost as I had in my own baby pictures. Pale blue eyes met mine, and the few silver strands of hair on her pulled back by a green headband with a little silver ribbon. She had been fussing as the Professor had carried her, but now she simply looked at me, as curious as I was. Who was this child? Was she my...sister? Had father really gone and had another child with that woman? I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice when Professor McGonagall waved me after her, or that I followed her distractedly until we reached her office.

She was startled when she looked at me once more. "Mr. Malfoy? I...um..." I had never seen her at a loss for words before. She quickly grabbed the baby from my arms, which set her howling, and sent me from her office, with an admonition to tell no one what I had just seen, and that Professor Snape would come to see me shortly.

I walked back to the Slytherin common room, dazed. I had only seen that woman once since the time we had "met" at Diagon Alley. She had come to the school, and tried to start a conversation with me, but I had brushed her off. That was less than a year ago, shortly before the end of the school year. Was this why? Had she been pregnant, and wanted to get friendly with me? Perhaps she thought that Father would leave Mother for her, and wanted to make sure that she was on good terms with me?

By the time I reached the common room, I was livid. How dare he? He ignores my mother and me for years in favour of this woman, then has a child with her? I stormed towards my room, planning on writing my father a very nasty note, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Professor Snape. For once, I actually glared at him. "You knew!" I growled at him.

He pulled me out of the room, and guided me towards his office without a word. Once there, he set privacy spells up before turning to me. He completely ignored my attempt to stare him down and moved to his desk, though he did not sit down. "Sit," he told me. I glared at him for a few moments before I complied. I was furious, but he was still the best teacher in the school. I would at least listen to what he had to say.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't know what you think about what has just happened, but you are not to mention it to anyone. Least of all your father."

This surprised me. Did he mean what I thought he did? Did father not know about this child? "Sir?"

"You know who your father serves, Draco. You know what dangers that puts his family in. I cannot and will not allow you to put her in that position. Do you understand?"

Startled at Professor Snape's vehemence, I simply nodded.

He sat down. "I need your word that you will not speak of this. Do I have it?" He looked at me pointedly.

"Yes, sir," I managed to spit out.

I could tell he was not pleased with my reluctance, but he relaxed just a bit. "I will hold you to that, Draco. Don't disappoint me." With that, he waved his hand and the wards around the door disappeared. "You are dismissed."

I fumed about it for days afterwards. I hated secrets. Particularly when they involved me. But I kept my mouth shut. Whatever his reasons, Professor Snape wasn't someone I was ready to cross. I didn't see that child again for quite some time, though I continued to keep my eye out for her that year.

Soon I was distracted by school concerns. Dumbledore was gone, Potter was in disgrace, and I was on top of the world. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. Between Umbridge falling right into Potter's trap, and father stupidly being arrested at the Ministry of Magic, by the time school was out I had just about forgotten about the baby.

And when I returned home for summer break, I received an even greater shock.