Chapter Text
The newspapers said that something strange had happened at the end of the Triwizard tournament. They reported that a young man was dead. They reported that Harry Potter had been involved. Of course he was. Potter was always involved. The paper had reported rumors that the Dark Lord was back. They didn't say if the rumors were true, and as time went on, they published more and more stories assuring the people that everything was alright. That the Dark Lord rumors were just lies. Huge amounts of money exchanged vaults as Lucius Malfoy helped pay to keep the story under wraps.
Draco knew that the Dark Lord was back. He knew it as a fact because the Dark Lord was in his house. Not all the time, no, but when the pale, strange looking wizard was in between his projects and tasks, he would stay here, allowing himself to be entertained by the Malfoys. Setting up meetings in their dining room.
Their dining room smelled of blood.
Draco did not come down the stairs when he knew the Dark Lord was going to be at the manor. He stayed in his room, working on his summer homework and reading, trying to keep the chills and the nightmares at bay as the very presence of the Dark Lord downstairs tainted the house. He wore ear plugs charmed only to let his mother and father's voices through so he wouldn't have to hear the screaming. Those had been a gift from his mother after the first round sent him to the bathroom to throw up for the third night in a row.
He felt like a coward hiding from the Dark Lord, but for the first time in his life he wanted to act his age and stay out of whatever was going on below his very feet.
Draco wasn't stupid. He knew he would have to face this eventually. He would have to make the decision to get that mark on his arm and do as he was told, fearing for his and his parents lives. But he could ignore all of that for now and read and work on his homework.
He looked out the window longingly at the skies, grey and cloudy, but not rainy. He missed his broom, but he didn't dare go out to fly with the Dark Lord nearby.
He looked up when he heard his father's voice through his ear plugs.
Lucius Malfoy was standing in his doorway, a very drawn expression on his nearly white face. His hands were trembling, and his lips were nearly the same color as the rest of his face. Draco didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that his father had very recently been Crucioed. He felt sick to his stomach realizing his mother had made certain the ear plugs wouldn't let in the sound of their screams, either.
"Draco, we need to talk," Lucius said, stepping into the room.
Draco stood, taking a seat on the bed and offering his desk chair to his father.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked, slowly pulling out the ear plugs. Thankfully, there were no other sounds in the house.
Lucius looked relieved when he spotted the ear plugs in Draco's hands.
"The Dark Lord has taken an interest in you. We have come to the decision that you will be taking the dark mark. 15 is typically too young for it, but-"
"Father! You can't be serious," Draco hissed. He felt ill, his own face draining. It seemed that all of that blood went to his stomach, weighing it down and making him nauseous. "I can't do it. I've only just turned 15 and I'm too young. I-"
"The Dark Lord has some tasks that he would like completed at Hogwarts," Lucius continued, voice trembling. He wouldn't look Draco in the eye. "He cannot trust your peers with these tasks. Only you. And you will-"
"But Father! I-"
"You will do them without complaint," Lucius said viciously, meeting Draco's eyes for the first time. They were bloodshot, like he had been crying.
Silence fell thick between them for a long moment and Lucius said, "These tasks will be difficult and if you cannot complete them.... Well, we won't let that happen. Your mother will be making certain you are not alone in this while you are at school, though she refuses to tell me what she plans. If I know, the Dark Lord may find out, and he is already angry enough with me as it is."
Draco shook his head, mouth open in horror.
"You will receive your mark tomorrow and you will do the best you can. If not for the Dark Lord, than for me and your mother, do you understand, Draco?"
"I can't," Draco whispered.
"You can and you will and you must," Lucius said sharply.
After a moment, he reached out, putting a hand on the back of Draco's neck, pulling him forward. He hesitated before pressing a kiss to Draco's pale hair. "We'll make it through this. We will need to be strong and smart, but we will make it. Remember everything I have taught you. Just do your best, Draco."
Lucius stood up, turning to leave the room. He cast one backward glance at Draco, and though Draco was young and certainly did not know everything in the world, he could definitely read the anguish, terror, and grief in his father's face before the door closed.
Draco sat in stunned silence, certain that his father was already grieving. Was he grieving for Draco's safety and innocence? Or for Draco's life, itself? Perhaps both.
Lucius had said it himself. The Dark Lord had been furious with the Malfoy family when he had returned. He had chosen their home so he could keep a close eye on them all. Perhaps this was a test to see if they would sacrifice their son despite their disloyalty. That they would hand him over to the Dark Lord who would give him impossible tasks that would only result in his death.
Draco felt his breath hitch in his throat. Even if he didn't die, serving the Dark Lord would mean torture and mind games. It would mean sitting beside people who he knew had committed horrible crimes because they thought it was fun. It would mean watching his father revert back to that hateful man he had been in Draco's earliest memories. The mean one that bruised his arms when he didn't comply fast enough.
Draco closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He needed to think. He was a Slytherin, and a Slytherin could get his way no matter what, even if it meant getting out of the Dark Lord's servitude.
It struck him like a Body Slam Jinx.
He buried his face in his hands, giving into tears. He would have to leave. He would need to break his connection to the Malfoy name and never return. He would need to run away and become untraceable. He would never go back to Hogwarts or see his parents again or play a Quidditch game. He might even need to abandon his wand and get a new one.
He felt sick to his stomach, and he slowly keeled over onto his bed, sobbing his heart out. He was terrified. If he was caught, he was as good as dead. Or perhaps he would be tortured into insanity. Maybe when he was discovered missing, his parents would be tortured to insanity.
A strange but powerful feeling of empathy for Longbottom drove through him and he wept for a boy he thought he could care less about.
Draco cried until he was out of tears and had grieved what he would soon lose. He lay on top of his covers, shivering but too tired to crawl under them as taunting words spoken in the voices of his friends and his enemies.
No more princeling, no more Scion of the Noble House of Malfoy. You will be just a child roaming the streets with no one to love you.
It's better than dying, Draco shot back before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
.................................
Draco woke to the sound of his mother's screams. He sat up, hands clutching at his chest as he looked around. Night had fallen now, and his mother screamed below as though she were being tortured.
He leapt to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he did not run to help her like he wanted to. He grabbed the Genealogy of Malfoy off the shelf, the crest shining bright on the cover before he quickly turned to the very back page. He had seen it once when he was younger, but had flipped away from it then, disgusted. Little did that younger version of him know that he would have need of the spell now.
Draco grabbed his wand, reading over the words as carefully as he could.
With a small practice slash of his wand, he turned to the magical family tree, taking harsh breaths.
He hesitated. He could stop now. He could try and find another way. One where he didn't have to abandon his parent.
Another scream from his mother downstairs pushed him to action. There was no other way. He would not live here and watch his parents die under the hand of a master they couldn't get away from. There was a chance for Draco to live, and he knew he had to take it. His father had taught him to take care of himself first at all costs. Draco just hoped his father would recognize that after he made this decision.
Draco hovered his wand over his own somber face in the book.
"Draco, Scion of the Noble House of Malfoy, cursed be thy name," Draco intoned. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he continued, "Thou hast betrayed thy family and thy oath. Thou art unwanted and abandoned. Thou shalt gain nothing more from the family thou hast turned thy back against. Thou hast been shunned. Malfoy shall never again be thy name."
With that slashing motion, Draco sang out the rest of the spell. "Domos Periurus!"
His face in the wreath of drawn in oak branches faded away, the branches crumbling away to nothing as well. The only reminder that there had been anything there was the broken end of a small branch leading from his parent's names.
He stared at the page for a long time. There was no going back now. He was no longer a Malfoy. This was it for him. Him and the Malfoy line.
Draco closed his eyes for a long moment before he got to his feet. He carefully closed the book, putting it back on the shelf and grabbed a bag.
His mother and father had given him a hefty stash of galleons this year to use as he pleased over the summer. It was far too much for him, more than he had even received for a three school years combined, and he was beginning to wonder if they had done this knowing he may need to make this decision.
He packed a few outfits, clothing he thought wouldn't stand out too much, at least by magus standards. He held one of his school robes in his hands for a long moment, tears threatening to fall on the velvet. He would be too easy to trace at Hogwarts, and wearing them outside of school would be a dead giveaway for where he should be. He put the robes down and continued packing. He decided to bring his favorite book of magus tales, a couple school books that looked like they might be useful to have, all of his new schoolbooks to teach himself magic from, and a blanket. He quickly cast a charm to shrink and lighten his bag to put into his pocket and considered his wand. He shook his head and put it in his holster. He would need it to get to Ollivander's wand shop. He would get rid of it then.
With all of that done, his things packed, and the cover of night fallen, he was ready to go.
He listened closely to the sounds downstairs. His mother had not screamed for a while now, and he didn't know if it was safe for him to leave.
He flinched as he heard a new scream. His father's.
He ran for the closet, grabbed his broom, opened the window, and fled the manor before Lucius's second scream could die out.