Children Will Listen

The next day, there was a knock on Draco's bedroom door. "Come in, Dobby," he called.

The door opened and the house elf walked in smiling, holding a tray of sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice. "Master Draco's lunch." Dobby placed the platter on a small round table in front of a large picture window.

"Thank you, would you like to join me? There is plenty for you, if you want," said Draco as he sat at the table and hungrily grabbed a sandwich.

Dobby smiled hesitantly, "Master Malfoy has insisted Dobby stay in the kitchens. Dobby's not to spend more time than necessary with Master Draco."

The sandwich sagged in Draco's hand. "But...but..." his bottom lip trembled.

"Master Draco must not cry!" the house elf looked over his shoulder as though he suspected a large spider would attack at any moment. "Master Malfoy would not have it!" he frantically patted the small boy's hand. "Now, Master Draco is to eat and go straight to Master Malfoy's study. Master Draco must do as Master Malfoy asks... As must Dobby," he snapped his fingers and with a sharp 'CRACK' was gone.

Draco didn't want to eat, he couldn't understand why he and Dobby couldn't be friends. *Surely I can make him play with me. I am his master, too.* But the thought of making someone spend time with him was much too depressing to continue.

He stood, leaving his uneaten sandwiches at the table, and headed towards his father's study. The door was ajar, obviously left open for him; his father never left doors opened in the house, it was practically law.

"Father?" he spoke timidly as he entered the large room.

"Yes, Draco, you may enter." His father was sitting at his desk peering over piles and piles of books and papers. He didn't look up when his son walked in, but immediately said, "I understand you've been playing with house elves. This is to stop straight away. You're too old to play ridiculous children's games, and much too well bred to play with house elves, like a common Weasley. You should have never been allowed to do such a thing, your mother has been punished for letting it go on as long as she has. I'd hate to punish you as well."

Draco silently wondered what his father could mean. *How was Mummy being punished? And for what reason, she didn't do anything wrong. Is it because of me?*

His father continued, "And furthermore, son, you are to go to a gathering the Ministry is having. Your mother won't be attending as she is being punished. But you will go and you will make the connections you'll need for later years."

*A party? I've never been to a Ministry party before! How exciting!* "When is the gathering?"

"We leave in one half hour. I want you in your best robes and scrubbed clean. Behind the ears, fingernails, and other such areas young people get dirty," his nose scrunched up in a disgusted way.

Draco held his breath so not to giggle, his father despised giggling; and stood waiting to be properly dismissed by his father.

"What are you waiting for? Go!"

Draco nodded his head towards his father and hurried to his bedroom. A bath was already drawn and waiting for him; he disrobed quickly and jumped in, splashing a bit as he did.

Suddenly there was a loud 'CRACK!' and several house elves appeared around the tub. Draco covered himself as best he could; his face went red with embarrassment and anger, "How dare you! I haven't needed help bathing since I was four! Get out!"

"Master Malfoy's orders, Young Master," a female elf said taking Draco's ear and giving it a good scouring, until it was raw.

"Ouch! That hurt! Must you be so rough?"

"Master Malfoy's orders. Young Master Draco is to be scrubbed and scrubbed again until he squeaks, sir," a male elf answered taking a hold of his foot and sending the small boy into the soapy water in the process.

"This is too much, please!" he shrieked when he emerged from the water. "Please, I promise to clean every inch of myself! Please just let me be!" He began to cry as another elf took a washcloth to his nether regions.

"Master Malfoy's orders," the other elf answered sympathetically to him.

~o~

After Draco's bath, he was helped into his robes by the same house elves assigned to clean him. He had some time left before he would have to leave with his father, so he decided to complain to his mother. *If anyone could get father to calm down about how clean I am, it would have to be her.*

He knocked on her door softly, so the sound wouldn't echo in the vast house. There was no answer, but he could hear muffled crying. He remembered then that she was being punished because of him, and frowned. *Poor Mummy, she always loved parties. I'll tell her I'll sneak home some pâté for her, that'll make her happy.* He opened the door slowly and froze at the sight before him.

His mother was hovering at the ceiling, her nightdress billowing around her. Her long, beautiful blonde hair was lying in a pile below her, and her face was grotesquely twisted so she was nearly unrecognizable. A large mirror floated in front of her, she couldn't move or even blink.
"Mummy?" Draco's voice was small and quiet.

"Draco! Don't look at me!" she cried. "Please, love, get Mummy's wand!" She tried to force her voice back to normal, gesturing madly to her vanity table where her wand lay.

Draco took a step towards the vanity, but stopped when he felt a large, strong hand grasping his shoulder. "No, son. Your mother is being punished," Lucius said. "Look at her, son."

Narcissa begged him not to, her howling louder and increasingly incomprehensible.

"Look at her!" He forced his son's chin to look up at the horrific sight of his mother. "Remember, son, this is what we do to women when they don't do as they are told. She was naughty and now she must see herself for what she truly is: a filthy, ugly woman no one wishes to look at, much less love."

Narcissa's cries grew louder still, begging Draco not to believe his father and pleading with Lucius to lift the spell.

"Come now, Draco. We are risking being later than is fashionable," he led the young boy away and closed the door on Narcissa's screams.

The magical car Lucius ordered dropped them off in a densely wooded area. Draco wondered where the party could be if there weren't any buildings anywhere near them.

"This is where the gathering is being held?" spat Lucius to the driver.

"Yes sir, picnic grounds number twelve," he answered, pointing down a trail off to the right.

Lucius stepped out of the car in a huff. "I shouldn't be surprised; Weasley did organize this after all. Come along, Draco."

Draco crawled out of the backseat and looked around the park. He had rarely been outside, his father hated dirt and grass, as well as the sun. Which explained the family's colorless, pale skin. Draco, however, was awed at all the lovely greenery and the bright yellow sun.

"Draco, what are you gawking at? Come, now!" He grabbed Draco's collar and pulled him roughly down the trail.

They followed the path for what seemed forever to Draco, what with his father's muttering on about Muggle-lovers and some man named Arthur. They finally arrived at a large clearing filled with wizards and witches and their children. Some were dressed in Muggle clothing, while others dressed in their finest wizards robes.

"Lucius!" a portly man in a lime green bowler hat rushed over. "So good to see you! Where is your lovely wife?"

"She's a bit under the weather, I'm afraid, Cornelius. She sends her regrets," he extended his hand and shook the man's pudgy one. "I don't believe you've met my son, Draco," he shoved Draco in front of him.

"Ah, yes. Pleased to meet you, young Malfoy," Cornelius patted his head, ruffling his hair.

"Nice to meet you, Sir," he said in a shy voice.

"A bit timid for a Malfoy, isn't he, Lucius?" he laughed, continuing his assault on the boy's hair.

"Not at all, Fudge. I fear he's caught whatever his mother is suffering from," he pulled Draco away from the man, smoothing his hair back down. He searched the crowd for someone to pawn Draco off on. "Ah! There are your friends, Vincent and Gregory, son. Why don't you go and... play?"

Draco looked up at his father in shock, but quickly realized he didn't really mean "play," just go. He walked over to where the two large, fat boys stood, with their backs to him.

"Where's Malfoy?" he overheard Vincent say.

"How am I supposed to know? But when he gets here, remember what my dad said, let him do the talking. He's probably a lot like his father, vain and longwinded," Gregory replied.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Hearing this, Draco rushed away in the other direction. He was tired of everyone expecting him to be like his father. *I am nothing like him, although I wish I were. Maybe that way he'd love me.*

He passed several picnic tables filled to capacity with various delicious-smelling foods; his stomach gave a loud groan. He sidestepped many groups of people, a number of whom he recognized from his father's late-night, secret meetings he held in his study.

While trying to avoid Misters Crabbe and Goyle, he bumped into a tall, skinny boy his age, and fell down. "Oy, sorry about that," said the boy, helping him up.

"Oh no! Father will be furious with me! My robes are filthy!" Draco whined.

The boy screwed up his freckled face in a look of slight annoyance. "They're not filthy! Just a bit mussed is all. Why'd you wear such fancy robes to a picnic?"

"My father told me to. He didn't know it was a... picnic, is that what you called it?"

"You've never heard of a picnic before?" the boy laughed and ran a hand through his bright red hair. His face fell a little as he saw Draco frantically shaking dirt off of his robes. He slapped the back of the robes, trying to help. "There, it looks fine."

"No," he moaned. "They're still horrid. Father will not be pleased." He began to whimper slightly.

"Calm down, what's the big deal?" the boy looked around nervously.

Draco was growing angry at his flippant attitude. "Your father doesn't get angry if you get your clothes dirty?"

The boy laughed, "My dad encourages it! Mum on the other hand, gets a bit miffed. But she yells and then it's over."

"You obviously don't understand," he said, after noticing the boy's tattered Muggle clothing.

The redhead turned a light shade of pink and kicked up some dirt with his foot.

Two identical boys joined them; they were clearly related to the other boy, seeing as they had the same red hair. "Oy, Twerp, come on! Mum said we could play a bit of Quidditch," one said patting the boy's shoulder.

"How'd you get her to do that?"

"We were bored and charmed Percy's shoes to do a tap-dance whenever he mentioned his top marks he got in Charms," answered the second boy.

"She flipped, of course, but we explained if we had something else to do we wouldn't have to find amusement in other such 'unsavory' activities," the other twin said.

The younger boy laughed and turned back to Draco. "I'm guessing your dad wouldn't approve of your playing a round of Quidditch, huh?"

Draco was positive his father wouldn't approve at all, but he also knew he wanted more than anything to play. He often thought of himself as a Seeker. He would ask Dobby to throw some biscuits in the air as he zoomed around his room catching them on his toy broomstick.

The older boys gave Draco a once over. "Nah, I don't think he could handle himself, we do play a bit rough," the one on the right said, smirking down at him.

"Yah," the left one agreed. "Not if he's afraid of dirtying his pretty robes."

Draco clenched his jaw. "Like I'd like to play with you pitiful lot!" Words fell out of his mouth faster than he could think them up, "Probably have splinters for brooms anyway." He turned on his heel and made a hasty escape before the three brothers could take any kind of retaliation.

He jogged rather far, the sounds of the picnic replaced by birds singing and the wind blowing through the trees. He was soon lost and wandering around aimlessly. His stomach growled and he regretted not eating those sandwiches when Dobby had brought them to him.

As he continued walking, he found his way to a small abandoned play park. He was growing tired and decided to sit on one of the swings. "Stupid boys..." he said thinking of the redheads as well as Vincent and Gregory.

"Sorry, I'll go," a small voice said nearby. Draco turned and saw a diminutive boy underneath a jungle gym; he stood and hurried to leave, getting himself tangled in the bars.

"I-I didn't mean you," said Draco sounding embarrassed. "You don't have to leave, the park's big enough for both of us. It's not like anyone else is here."

The boy stopped and perched himself on the jungle gym, he looked Draco over and cocked his head to one side, confused. Draco suddenly became aware of the fact this boy was obviously a Muggle and he, Draco, was dressed in the finest of wizards robes.

"Where's your family?" Draco asked, worried an adult would see his clothing and ask too many nosy questions. He doubted the nervous boy would dare make an inquiry about them.

"Don't have one," he replied unceremoniously.

"Excuse me?"

"My parents died in a car crash, I live with my aunt and uncle."

"Well, then you do have a family," Draco said matter-of-factly.

The boy's face distorted into a mask of hatred. "No, not really. Blood doesn't make a family."

Draco pondered this for a moment. He felt sorry for the boy and decided not to mention his family or lack there of again. "Where are your aunt and uncle?"

"Home. Bit peeved off at me," he unconsciously pulled the ball cap he was wearing further over his forehead. "So, I figured I'd hide out for a while."

"Oh, I'm doing the same. My father will be angry when he sees how dirty I've gotten."

The boy looked at him with immensely green eyes behind thick, broken, black glasses. His face told Draco he didn't find him dirty at all, but he said, "I understand, my aunt starts foaming at the mouth if I get the tiniest smudge on her precious windows. Like she can't spy on the neighbors if my finger smudges are in her way."

Both boys regarded each other with pity. "You want to play a game of football? I nicked my cousin's ball before I sneaked out this morning." He held up a black and white ball Draco had never seen before.

"Um... I'm afraid I don't know the rules," Draco shrugged.

"Actually, I don't either. I'm not really allowed to play or even watch many matches on television. We could just kick it around though."

"Alright," Draco stood and helped the clumsy boy out of the hold the jungle gym seemed to have on him. They played happily for a long while, Draco had never felt so normal before. All he did was run and shout, he fell and rolled about the grass; he was just a kid, and it felt wonderful. He tried not to think of what would inevitably happen when his father saw the grass stains and clumps of dirt embedded in his robes.

"Watch this! I'm going to kick this straight 'round the world!" the boy hollered as he took a running start at the ball.

Draco watched as he gave it a spectacular kick, the ball zoomed past Draco and flew into the air, over the treetops. The two boys watched it as it became a tiny speck in the sky. The boy gave a startled yelp and Draco's heart fell. He turned just in time to see the tiny boy run away crying, "I didn't mean to! I dunno how it happened!" He ran, his arms flailing over his head; his ball cap flew off unleashing his long, untidy, black hair.

Draco stared after the boy, watching as he too became a small speck. *Dammit! Just when I was making a real friend, even a Muggle one, I have to ruin it by accidentally using magic! I dunno how I even did it, anyway. Must have wanted to impress him or make him feel better. How could I have been so stupid?* Draco sighed sadly.

"Draco!" his father's voice screamed; Draco turned back towards the woods. His father emerged angrily waving his walking stick. "Where the hell have you been for the past two hours?"

Draco stood, scared stiff at the sight of his father stomping towards him, his eyes glued to the brandished walking stick. He was quickly becoming aware of just how sullied he had let his robes get.

"What have you done? You unruly, disrespectful brat!" Lucius grabbed hold of Draco's neck and threw him to the ground. "If you think what I did to your mother was bad, wait until I get through with you! Get up!"

Draco stood hesitantly and Lucius struck him across the mouth, cutting it with his ring. Draco stumbled but caught his balance before he could fall. He planted his feet in the ground, trying to show his father how strong he was. Lucius's hand rose once more, but he was stopped at the sound of a man's voice behind him.

"Lucius! Good, good, you found him. I guess we can call off the search, then," a balding, redheaded man called as he strolled over to them.

"Yes, Arthur," Lucius sneered, turning to the man. "He gave me quite a scare. Come on, Draco." He placed his hand firmly on his son's shoulder and pushed him towards the woods, "He got lost and fell down, poor lad. I trust Crabbe's wife can sort him out. I'm afraid I'm no good with medics."

Arthur looked down at Draco's bloody lip and teary eyes and said, "Yes, Lucius. I'm sure he'll be fine." He gave Draco a weak smile, but the young boy returned it with a sneer identical to his father's.

*He knows, but won't help. Figures.*

As he was being pulled away back to the picnic area, he turned and looked back at the play park, relishing the moments that were over much too soon, and set it deep into his memory. Just as they passed into the woods, he saw the black and white football fall from the sky and land with a 'THUMP' in the now empty play park.

Draco spent the rest of the day sitting at an empty table. He was allowed food, but only because his father couldn't starve him in front of his co-workers.

Lucius came over to him after an hour, he spoke in a low, hushed voice, "Just to let you know, you should eat as much as you can. Because when we get home, you won't be eating anything for some time. And as for your little friend, Dobby, he may just receive a lovely set of earmuffs."

Draco was about to argue, but his father gave him a warning look and he quickly shut his mouth. Lucius walked away, strumming his fingers on his walking stick.

*No, please... Someone help... I'll do anything.*

~o~

The following week went by slowly and painfully for Draco. His stomach ached and he hadn't seen Dobby or his mother at all. He was confined to his bedroom with nothing to keep his mind occupied. Draco no longer felt like a normal seven year old. He felt like a prisoner; he wondered if this was what Azkaban was like. His thoughts grew darker with each passing day. He could no longer remember the joy he had felt playing in the park with that Muggle boy. He only felt hatred, not for his father, who deep down he knew he should hate, but for himself. He hated that he couldn't be the son his father wanted.

*If I were I wouldn't be in this room by myself starving! Mother wouldn't be deformed and suffering. And perhaps... Father would be proud of me.*

There was a knock on the door and Draco jumped at the sudden noise, "Y-yes?" he answered.

The door opened and his mother glided in, she was no longer ugly and twisted, but she still didn't look like herself. Her expression was changed into a smug, haughty, scrunched up way. She was still beautiful, but the light that had once surrounded her, was gone.

*She's changed... because of me.*

"Draco," she said, her voice cold, "your father wishes to see you in his study." She gestured towards the door and waited for him to walk out.

He didn't move from his spot on the carpeted floor. "Mummy... Mother? How are you?"

Her face darkened as she took a deep breath, and repeated, "Your father wishes to see you in his study... Now."

Draco gave his mother a look of pitying sadness, and walked out of the room, his mother close behind. They went down the stairs and stopped in front of Lucius's study. Narcissa placed a shaking hand on her son's shoulder and gave it a weak squeeze. Draco looked up at her, her expression softened but only for a moment. She let go and gave the door a quick rap with her knuckles.

It magically opened, and she said very properly, "Your son is here to see you, my husband." She gave Draco a small push into the room and closed the door, shutting him in alone with his father.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" his father asked, sitting at his desk, his hands resting in front of him.

Draco tried clearing his dry and cracked throat, but it only pained him more. "Fine, Sir," he choked out.

"Don't lie, boy!" he yelled. "Tell the truth, or risk another week of starvation."

"I'm hungry, Sir," he answered softly.

"You're weak."

"Only from hunger... Sir," Draco replied defiantly.

Lucius smirked. "Would you like something to eat, boy?"

Draco tried to bite back his enthusiasm; but he failed miserably, quickly saying, "Yes, Sir, please."

A platter of sandwiches, cakes and a jug of wine appeared on the table beside the fireplace. Draco now forced himself to stay planted in his spot until his father invited him properly to eat.

"You are a quick learner, Draco. Quicker than I thought you were. You may eat, but dear Merlin, do remember your table manners."

Draco sat hastily at the table, and placed a napkin on his lap, before grabbing a sandwich off the platter. His mouth watered as he lifted it to his lips.

"Just a moment, my dear boy." Lucius held his wand to his throat and his voice was magically amplified throughout the house, "Dobby, to my study at once."

Draco's heart did a somersault and fell at the same moment. He was thrilled that Dobby hadn't been forced clothing, but feared what his father had in store for the house elf now.

'CRACK!' Dobby appeared before Lucius and gave a low bow, his nose pressed against the floor. "Yes, Sir, what can Dobby do for his master?"

Lucius's voice returned to its normal volume, "It's not what you can do for me, Dobby, but for my son." He pointed to the boy, seated across the room, watching the scene with frightened interest.

"What can Dobby do for Master Draco?" the elf tried to stop his chattering teeth, but they were still audible.

"Draco, eat," Lucius commanded. Draco took a bite of his sandwich and Lucius struck Dobby with green sparks from his wand at the same instant.

Draco froze, staring as Dobby twitched in pain.

"Eat, Draco!" Lucius said again.

He did, and Dobby once again was hit with more sparks.

With each bite Draco took Dobby was hit with more and more sparks. The insignificant creature cried out in pain each time. Lucius seemed to be enjoying this game of his own creation, while Draco held back tears as he ate.

When the sandwiches and wine were gone, Draco breathed easy, thinking the torture on Dobby was finally over. He should not have had such faith in his father.

~o~

Lucius stood over Dobby as he lay twitching on the floor and called, "Draco." The boy walked obediently to his father. "Take this." He held out his walking stick; Draco stared at him for a split second before taking the stick from him, "Hit him."

"What?" the boy asked taken aback.

"Hit him. You must see that he is nothing but a lowly servant. Hit him!" he said sternly pointing down at the cowering elf.

Draco stood holding the stick limply at his side; he looked more frightened then Dobby.

"Hit him, you worthless fool!" said Lucius, his voice rising. "You will always be nothing but a weak, insignificant child if you don't do as I say!"

Anger slowly filled the small boy.

"Worthless!" Lucius screamed again.

His breathing became ragged as he clenched the thin rod.

"Insipid!"

Fire seemed to flash in front of his eyes.

"Weak!"

His face burned red; his grip so tight on the stick his knuckles turned white.

"Weak!"

The walking stick seemed to rise by its own will.

"WEAK!"

It landed on Dobby's back with a sickening crack. Draco hit the elf repeatedly, he no longer saw Dobby, his friend, but just a simple house elf, a servant. His father had succeeded, and he continued hitting the poor creature over and over again; until his father finally snatched the stick from his hand.

Draco's chest heaved as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He looked up at his father, his vision became clearer with every breath. Lucius was looking down at him with a strange, unnatural expression of pride.

"Very good, Draco. You truly are a quick learner," Lucius clapped him on the back.

Draco felt himself filling with an unfamiliar feeling... he couldn't think of what it was, he didn't know the words to describe it. It was as though he were the only person in the whole world, as though a light suddenly shone on him and him alone. It was oddly wonderful and frightening at the same time. And then, his father summed up the feeling in one sentence.

"I'm proud of you, son." Lucius looked down at him for just a moment, then turned to the bloody, bruised and broken elf at his feet. "You may return to the kitchens now, Dobby," he gave the servant a small kick and walked back to his desk.

Dobby couldn't move to snap his fingers, he lay there whimpering quietly in pain. Draco looked down at him, his heart turned cold at the sight of the weak, pathetic creature. "You were told to leave, elf," he said completely devoid of feeling.

Dobby opened his swollen eyes as wide as he could manage; he stared up at his former friend with tears filling his eyes. "Yes... Sir," he simpered and with his last once of strength, he snapped his fingers and with a faint 'crack' he was gone.

"Come, Draco," Lucius called waving him over to him. Draco walked directly to his side. "You are on your way to be a true Malfoy. I've never been as proud of anything, anything Draco, as I am of you right now." He placed a hand on his shoulder, his face resuming its usual coldness. "Now, go I have work to do," he gave his arm a sharp smack and gave a small smirk.

"Yes, Sir."

Draco walked to the door, and as he opened it, his mother stumbled into the room, she had had her ear pressed to it the entire time. She straightened quickly and stepped out into the hall before her husband could see her.

Draco closed the door behind him and looked up at her in a condescending way.

Her face was relaxed, no longer scrunched, but it showed a deep sadness. "Dear Merlin, I've never noticed until just now... you truly have your father's eyes."

Draco smirked and held his head high as he walked down the hall leaving his mother alone.

*I do look like him, because I am like him. For the first time in my life, my father is proud of me. And like hell will I ever allow myself to be weak again. I'll be the son he always wanted. I'll be everything he is. He'll never be ashamed of me again. I'll fight for purebloods around the world. I'll fight side by side with Father and The Dark Lord when he returns. Together we'll stop anyone who gets in our way. Death to all Mudbloods! And when it is all over, Father won't just be proud that I am his son, but he'll love me. He'll love me, because I will be just like him.*

~The End~

Careful the things you say/ Children will listen/ Careful the things you do/ Children will see/ And learn/ Children may not obey/ But children will listen/ Children will look to you/ For which way to turn/ To learn what to be/ Careful before you say/ "Listen to me."/ Children will listen/ Careful the wish you make/ Wishes are children/ Careful the path they take/ Wishes come true/ Not free/ Careful the spell you cast/ Not just on children/ Sometimes the spell may last/ Past what you see/ And turn against you.../ Careful the tale you tell/ That is the spell/ Children will listen...~

"Children Will Listen/Finale" from Into the Woods