Chapter Text
Draco was a young and innocent child, one who was loved by his mother oh so dearly. Between the ice cold walls and his distant father, there wasn’t much space left for happiness, but he had always found a way to make it happen. To make his laughter echo in the dark marble halls of the Malfoy Manor.
He always loved to wander around in need of adventures, in need of adrenaline, but mostly, in need of a father. The one he should be able to look up to, the one who is supposed to teach him about magic and kindness. But sadly, this isn’t how things are done in this mansion, and it wasn’t so hard to guess.
One night, the little boy had assigned himself a quest: to have a nice time with his father. To admire him just like a son should. But as he discreetly opened the doors of his dad’s office, he was met with a human-like face speaking directly to Lucius Malfoy. A deep voice, stern and solemn as it enunciated the potential comeback of the dark lord. Of course, baby Draco had no idea who that was and what was happening, but he knew that it had to stay unsaid and locked behind closed doors as his mother picked him up, a finger pressing against his lips.
Many times Draco interrupted important meetings that his father had when he was a child. Mainly with other death eaters, but he had always kept quiet, and eventually stopped making any effort towards his father. The man wanted his son evil, arrogant, egocentric, better than everyone else. This was a new kind of “affection” as he used to call it. At least there were gazes thrown at him, even if they were filled with poison and hatred. Lucius shaped his son to be like a thorn, like an icy marble one, to become the one that would make his father proud, and to be the one who would accomplish great things in the future. Change the future for death eaters, and for the entire wizarding world.
Years passed and passed where Draco was made and shaped the way his father wanted. And today, there was someone to meet for the only son. He came down the stairs with perfectly slicked back hair, a suit without a wrinkle and freshly polished shoes. Whoever this was, he needed to make a good impression. Of course, Dobby’s help was greatly appreciated, especially since Draco liked him. The way that his father treated the house elf never sat right with the blonde, but he had never dared to fight him on that. At least he could give himself some credit, he treated Dobby right and with respect behind closed doors, just like Narcissa would.
But as their only son walked into the room and smiled at the poor and gentle house elf in sign of gratitude, he was only met with a slap behind the head. It stung for a while, and it was the first time that his father had actually been violent with him. His heart had stopped, and slowly he had turned to face the tall man that was his father.
“You do not sympathise with the vermin.”
Had he said right to his son’s face, spitting the words out as if there were thousands of needles launching right at his pale skin. Draco hadn’t said a word, too shocked by the sudden slap before he turned to the unknown man. He was surprisingly small, only being as tall as Lucius’ pants. And Draco would have tried to be polite, but the want fled away as soon as he heard the not so gentle words which were said about him between the two men. Ignorant, useless, vermin, stupid and much more.
He was way too young to receive such a treatment, one which endured until his eleventh birthday where he received his Hogwarts letter. It felt just like a dream come true, a magical place where he could be himself. A little kinder but not less egoistical. He’s got money that’s for sure, you can smell it from his newly bought clothes and brand new magic school supplies. That is one thing Draco had always been grateful about, the materialistic side of his father. Not that he wanted all the money, far from it, but it is always nice to have new stuff to use. It always feels like a fresh start, a new beginning.
If only new beginnings were happier in the Malfoy family. Well of course Lucius had to give his son a well deserved lesson for.. Existing. Perhaps breathing the same air. And so Draco spent the night of his most awaited first day at Hogwarts crying on the floor of his bedroom. It was cold, and a little bloody. Lucius wasn’t one for hugs and kisses, he had always been more of a slap and magic spells, even small ones, just to hurt, to burn the words in his mind and make him remember. Remember his purpose, his perfectly shaped personality and his reputation to hold tight. One wrong footstep and he could say goodbye to his pure skin, his father making sure to leave him behind all black and blue, on his back and on his chest.
Of course, knowing that he’d be at Hogwarts for most of the time was reassuring, especially since during his first few years there, he didn’t have many responsibilities. Or at least not any major ones, just the usual living up to the family name, be scary and hate Harry Potter with all of your being. Even if he never liked it to be fair, that wasn’t something he understood, and when he tried to shake the chosen one’s hand on the first day, rejection hit hard. He was supposed to hate him, but it didn’t hurt to try and have such an influential person in his ranks. That would’ve made his father proud. But sadly Harry wasn’t in the mood for it, having already found company in the arms of the Weasel and his ugly ginger hair.
Lucius had taught his son to hate the Weasleys even more than Potter. Of course, they were poor, had many children and lived in what was very far from a mansion. Sure it was probably all cozy and warm, something that made Draco a little envious from time to time, but at least he didn’t have to wear anybody’s old clothes and have their old book. He loves new things, he is quite the materialist after all.
At least, Draco had made some friends, three to be exact: Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott. All three were also in Slytherin, and their parents were close to the Malfoys, also being death eaters. It wasn’t always fun at the friends and family gatherings during the holidays, but they all managed. Deep down, they all mainly craved validation from their parents, but sadly wouldn’t get it as much as they wanted to. But they were nice, a great mental support for when times are getting too hard to handle by himself.
Now, fifth year is around the corner, and even if Lucius is still giving his son beatings, cuts and bruises, at least Draco had heard some comforting words. About how well he is doing in school, about his good reputation that he heard from other students, about his great behaviour in classes. Of course Draco wanted to do only what was best for his father to be proud of him, but he never expected him to actually be proud, and he expected even less to hear about it so often. It did not stop the beatings for the littlest wrong action, but it felt like a great compromise for the Slytherin. Or at least that’s what he had tried to tell himself, maybe try and convince his brain that what he is saying is true. But it isn’t, and no parent should have to hit their child in order for them to make them do good.