Dear Father

"Dear Father,

They asked me what I would do if I had one chance to say everything I thought.

Here it is.

I hate you.

You and mother.

No, wait, Narcissa.

You're not my parents after all, just two random Wizards who were chosen to feed me till I was old enough to leave the school and get money for myself.

A father wouldn't stay quiet and watch, while his son gets beaten up in front of hundreds of Death Eaters for refusing Voldemort's Mark.

It's not my fault I didn't want to follow in your footsteps and be the Dark Lord's little whore.

I have a life of my own.

Even if I had to fight for it alone.

And I say had, because now he's with me.

Yes, he.

The Boy Who Lived.

He has been with me since school finished, comforting me.

Letting me be free but protecting me at the same time.

I let him screw me, daddy, does that hurt the Malfoy pride?

I hope it does.

I like to imagine your face right now, you're probably on that stupid red sofa in your study that I couldn't touch, aren't you? A glass of some stupid Muggle drink, of course if asked you'll deny it was made by Muggles, in your hand, reading this letter. Probably about to snap the glass, because you can't believe I would give myself to another man.

Especially him.

I hope you're sitting near Narcissa, reading this letter to her.

I wonder if she'll even care.

It's not like she cared for me before, I doubt that a letter from 'the blond boy who dirtied her beautiful garden' will suddenly bring out her maternal instincts.

I hope it doesn't.

That wouldn't be the Narcissa you...

Wait, what's the right term for this?

Love? Respect? Keep?

I would say keep is the obvious choice.

After all you can't say you love her after sleeping with all the maids in the Manor, half the women in the Ministry and some men from the Death Eathers.

Oh wait, I think that you could consider it love.

Maybe in some weird Muggle religion.

That was quite a low hit, wasn't it? I'm quite proud of thinking of it.

I hope it makes you realize you are worse than a Muggle.

Because you are, Lucius Malfoy.

You are no better than a dirty, stupid, worthless Muggle.

You gonna send for me?

Or for the first time in history are you gonna do your own dirty work?

I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't ever see you again.

That's a Malfoy characteristic, when our pride is hurt, we hide.

Of course you'll never admit it.

Why am I so sure?

Simple, because I know you.

I know how your mind works.

And I know what you're thinking right now.

You want to kill me don't you?

Don't worry, I'll die someday, but you won't be there to see it.

I have just one last thing to say before I leave you both, father, mother.

Have you ever wanted to see the Manor being swallowed by flames?

I hope you have.

Because you'll see it from the inside.

Rest in peace, wherever it is that you end.

Draco Malfoy"

And when Lucius finished reading the letter to his wife, the Manor was suddenly consumed into flames.

Swallowing years and years of memories and screams.

And from a hill not too far from the place, a blond boy stood, his lover's arms wrapped around him tightly, watching the scene, while Aurors destroyed the place which he once called home.

"I'm free."

And for the first time in years he let the tears fall.