Multi Fandom One Shots And Short Stories

(DRARRY) It's Darkest Just Before The Dawn

GUYS, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES.

This story contains mentions of Suicide, Self-Harm, child abuse, and Threats of rape. Please take care of yourselves.

Word count: 4930

Lucius Malfoy had never been a forgiving man. Draco knew that, he always had. He'd seen the way Lucius made the house elves punish themselves, and what those punishments had consisted of, and he'd always wondered when that brand of cruelty would spill over onto him. He'd hoped that it would never happen, that his father would never hurt him, but those were the hopes of a naive seven-year-old.

That seven-year-old boy was long dead. As Draco curled on his side, his father's metal-tipped cane crashing onto his already bruised ribs, he wondered how that boy had ever been so optimistic.

The first time Lucius had hit him, really hit him, had been after Draco had tried to protest an elf's ridiculously harsh punishment. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, Lucius's hand still raised from the backhanded slap. His mother had been with them. Draco knew she loved him as she had stepped in and stopped her husband from doing her son any more damage, which had left her with a bruised face to rival his own.

But now? Narcissa had learned that there was little she could do to deter her husband. It was only when Draco had practically begged her to step back, to protect herself, did she realize that she was doing nothing for her son if she was just as beaten down as he was.

With every blow raining down on Draco's already malnourished body, Lucius spat insults at his son: "Worthless, good for nothing, piece of sh!t"

As his father brought his cane down again, Draco was positive he felt a rib break. He'd been going through this for seven years, but anytime Lucius broke something, he couldn't help but cry out. He knew it only incited his father, but it just hurt so much.

*****

Draco shot up in his bed, the colors of Slytherin House reflecting back at him from the tiny floating candles around the edges of the room. His fellow students were still fast asleep. At least he hadn't woken anyone up this time.

He wanted to- No. He couldn't. What would his mother say? Draco knew that he was okay with doing a lot of things that a boy of 14 shouldn't be able to do (like, for instance, setting his own broken bones) but he knew that he could never disappoint his mother, not without feeling incredibly guilty. After everything she'd been through, she didn't need any more heartbreak.

But he couldn't stay here.

Draco ran one still-shaking hand down his face, rubbing away the drying tear tracks before untangling himself from the sheets and standing. He could still feel the phantom pain from that night, which had only been about three months ago. Draco squeezed his slate-grey eyes shut, trying not to remember anything about his summer... Or the summer before that... Or before that.

Draco quietly made his way to the foot of his bed, reaching into his trunk and grabbing a jumper. He slipped it over his head and reached for his school robes, which hung over the foot of his bed- He blocked the thoughts of what Lucius would do to him if he saw how carelessly his son's things had been arranged.

He snatched his wand from the bedside table and made his way out of his dorm and into the Common Room. He just wanted to be alone right now.

Draco shoved his hands in the pockets of his black robes... and his heart stopped. He did not need this right now- On the inside of his right pocket, he could feel a hastily sewn line into the fabric. He knew what was behind that thin line of string and he wanted it so badly.

The feeling he'd tried so hard to push down for so long began rising to the surface again. Except, after that memory... Draco knew he didn't have the strength that it would take to keep his hands off of it.