A Malfoy's Place

A Malfoy's Place

The room was completely silent, save for the crackling of a fire in the hearth and the low groan of a weight being shifted in a leather chair. The occupant of the fine chair was dressed in beautiful midnight blue robes and had his eyes shut. Suddenly the door to the silent chamber was knocked on, and the resting man awakened.

"Come in," the man drawled, sitting up straighter in his chair.

The heavy wooden door opened slowly as if the outsider was afraid to actually do so. Once inside, the newcomer shut the door and crossed to the middle of the room near the man in the chair. The person to enter the room was faintly nervous, though his outer appearance didn't hint at his true feelings. He was young, but almost an adult. His platinum hair was slicked back, the longest strands just kissing his shoulders. His head was bowed slightly in a sign of respect and the young man's steely gray eyes were cast down.

"Well?" the seated man prompted.

"I just came, well, I mean I'm here because..." the young man stammered.

"Spit it out, boy. Malfoys don't stutter," the older man barked.

"I'm sorry, Father," the boy said quickly. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior at dinner tonight."

"Right," the older man said, getting up from his chair. He walked close to his son, close enough to touch him, but didn't dare. "Right. You certainly should apologize for the way you behaved this evening. Not only did you upset your mother, but also you were completely disrespectful to me. You are practically an adult now, Draco. You should know better than to talk back to me like that." The man paused for a moment and walked to the fireplace. Resting his hands on the mantel, he said, "Go to your room, son. I'll have one of the house elves summon you when your punishment is ready."

Expecting to hear his son leave, he was surprised when he didn't hear the boy exit the room. Lucius turned to find his son still standing where he had come in, not having moved an inch. "Draco," he commanded, "I told you to leave me for a while."

The boy looked directly into his father's eyes. His eyes were screaming for mercy because his mouth was never allowed to. Filled with a momentary bit of compassion, Lucius said with a softer tone, "Draco, go. If you would just learn your place in this family, you wouldn't have to be punished."

Defeated, the youth slowly left the room. If only he would learn his place, Lucius thought ruefully, then I wouldn't have to punish him so. Lucius knew, of course, that each punishment his son received hurt the boy more and more, both physically and emotionally, but really, there was no other way to get through to him. Lucius didn't really know how beatings became the punishment of choice. Maybe it was the fact that verbal lashings lost their emphasis when Draco was only a small child. Draco had always been a rebellious child, so Lucius thought that the boy needed someone to take control of his son, to keep the boy in check, to grind him down. And who better to do so than the boy's own father? Lucius reasoned. Yes, Lucius thought that first time, this is the right thing to do. Draco was only seven, and now, just over ten years later, the punishment had mostly remained the same. Lucius hated actually beating the boy, so instead of physically hitting him, Lucius was more apt to the Cruciatus Curse. As soon as Draco was able to stand again after that, Lucius would curse him with whatever spell he could think of that would cause the boy pain. Occasionally, Lucius would hit his son, but only if Draco had really angered him. He was very careful where he hit the boy, so as not to leave any distinct marks. In the beginning, Lucius had beat his son without thinking and had to cast spells to heal the major gashes and bruises. Lucius was more careful now, and only had to magically heal Draco once in a while. And now Lucius had to make sure Draco didn't have his wand with him. In the last few years, Draco had begun to defend himself, first verbally and then a few weeks ago, physically. Between curses, Draco had somehow managed to reach his own wand and cast a spell on his father. That ended that beating, but the next one was noticeably worse. Lucius sighed and crossed back to his chair. He fell lightly into the deep leather and closed his eyes. Though the beatings hurt the boy, they gave pleasure to Lucius. Lucius knew it was due to the sadist streak he had, and wasn't ashamed of it. So much power over a person, so much control, made Lucius sickly excited. Lucius decided to put off the boy's punishment for a while, and drifted into a light sleep.

In a chilly chamber down the corridor, the young man awaiting his punishment paced around the perimeter of the room. Making his way around the room, the boy stopped at the giant bay windows that looked over the Malfoy property. That's all I am, the boy thought. Property. Malfoy property. Draco remembered the beatings his father gave him clearly. In the beginning, they weren't so bad, but as time went on, each punishment became noticeably worse than the last. The last time his father punished him, Draco felt he like he was going to die. Sometimes during the excruciating pain, Draco wished he would die. It wasn't like anything would change if he died. His mother was never around and when she was home, she never paid any attention to her son anyway. Such a lovely mother, Draco thought bitterly. At school, no one would notice. Draco didn't really like anyone, and no one really liked him, which suited him just fine. He wasn't much of a people person. Probably the only ones to notice him missing would be the two idiots that followed him everywhere, Crabbe and Goyle. And they're so thick, Draco thought, they would probably just think I've gone on an extended holiday. And his father, well, his father would most likely only miss being able to torture his son. What a sick bastard, Draco thought viciously. He crossed the room to his closet and dug around his belongings until he found what he wanted. Slowly, he walked to the enormous four-poster bed, and sat at the edge of it. He fingered the thing which he had brought from the closet, and closed his eyes. I don't have to do this anymore, he thought. I could just run away, get away from here. But a nasty voice in his head replied, And go where, my friend? No one likes you, not even enough to give you a place to stay for a while. This voice scared Draco because what it said was true. But I could live alone, Draco thought again, Live alone, drop out of school, get a job. He walked to the windows and opened them. He tied the end of the rope he found in his closet to the decorations adorning the sill. That'll never work, the nasty voice sneered. You're too young; you're still a child. You couldn't find a place to stay. No one would hire you. It's useless. You're stuck here. Draco stopped tying knots in the rope. Fine, he thought, straitening up. I don't have to run away. I'll do something else to get myself out of here.

In his study, Lucius began pacing just as his son had done in his room. Where was that boy anyway? Lucius had sent a house-elf to summon the boy and here it was, over twenty minutes later, still no sign of his son. With a snarl, Lucius stalked toward the door. As he threw it open, he saw the elf that was supposed to get his son for him.

"What are you doing? Why haven't you brought Draco to me?" Lucius barked.

"Dottie has done what Master told her to do," the elf said timidly.

"So where is my son, then?" Lucius snarled.

"Dottie doesn't know, Master. Master's son isn't saying nothing, and his door is locked."

"Move aside, elf," Lucius ordered coldly. "Alohamora." The lock clicked open and Lucius strode into his son's room. The room was completely dark, except for the moonlight streaming in through the open windows. A light breeze played with the drapes and rustled some loose pieces of parchment on Draco's desk.

"Draco! Where are you?" Lucius demanded. He stalked across the room to close the windows, but changed his mind when the wind blew some of Draco's parchments off the desk. He went to pick up the fallen parchments and as he placed them back on the desk, one caught his eye. Instead of Draco's normally neat, precise script, a message was scribbled in a shaky writing.

Father,

If you are reading this, then I'm not here. I can't stay here any longer. I won't put up with this life any longer. Send Mother my love, that is, if she even wants it.

Your son,

Draco

"What is this, elf?" Lucius asked roughly.

"Dottie doesn't know, Master. Dottie can't read. But Dottie can see something over there." The elf pointed toward the open window with a shaky finger.

Lucius looked where the elf pointed and saw something tied to the windowsill. He walked over to the open window and saw that a rope had been tied and was hanging over the side of the manor. "Draco, if you're over there and think you're going to leave this house, you're sorely mistaken. Now get back up here this instant." Lucius scowled when he was not answered. "Draco! Get up here now!" Lucius moved to the edge of the window and looked down. Suddenly, he stiffened and staggered back. "Oh, gods, my son!" He turned to the elf. "Go get help," he ordered. Lucius went to the sill again and began heaving the rope up into the room. At the end of the rope, Draco's lifeless body was hauled into the room. Lucius became hysterical as Draco's body fell into the room. The boy's eyes were once again pleading for mercy and his mouth was open with a silent scream. Lucius fell apart as he tried to rouse his son. "Oh, gods, oh gods. Please, Draco, wake up. Please, boy. Oh, gods, please don't let be dead."

The house elf came then with the help Lucius asked for. Two of the medical wizards had to pry Lucius away from his dead son, while the other two covered the boy.

In the corner of his son's room, Lucius kept muttering, "It's my fault. It's all my fault." And the voice that had once been in his son's head now came into the father's. You're absolutely right, it said. It's your entire fault. Poor Draco would still be alive if it hadn't been for you. You feel horrible, which you should, but I can help you...

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