The Golden Snitch

Robes and Knives

'Who taught you to fly originally, Draco?'

'My father. And like everything else, it was about holding myself correctly, about being a Malfoy. Of course, it was also about winning. When I first got on a broom it was the most wonderful feeling in the world, I remember now, I guess Harry has reawakened that feeling, it was utter freedom. I soon had that beaten out of me. No, I couldn't be reckless, I couldn't laugh with joy. I had to show myself in a certain light, it was a bit like being a horse in a dressage competition. But then, that was my childhood. All about being a showpiece. Children should be seen and not heard, don't speak unless spoken to, just stand there politely, hand round canapés at dinner parties for the adults, then creep off to bed quietly, play with certain kids only, associate only with certain families, prepared to be beaten, or worse, if you didn't comply.'

'What do you mean, "or worse"?'

The question was asked gently but it horrified Draco. He felt an icy chill slide through his nerves at the memory of those moments when his father would raise his wand, his voice cold, cruel, without remorse at what he would subject his only son to, it was a necessity in his father's eyes. Draco shivered.

'The Cruciatus Curse,' he said quietly.

'Did that happen often, Draco?'

'Thankfully not. Especially if mother was around, she would go ballistic. I suppose it was how he had been brought up. I don't know, we never talked about personal matters. I know he loves me really, certainly nothing is ever good enough for me in his eyes, but it's just a very warped philosophy surrounding what he thinks is best for me. Being cursed as a punishment happened more frequently as I got older, part of training to become a Deatheater, I suppose. Trying to harden me, toughen me up. Trying to make me cruel too. Well, I gave it my best shot but I can certainly affirm that, as a strategy, it failed with utmost aplomb. No child should ever go through that. The pain was extraordinary.' Draco felt so cold as he said the words, but there was also that feeling of detachment, as if it had happened to someone else. Only it hadn't, it was his body that had been wracked by unending, excruciating pain that seemed to scream from the very core of his bones, pulsing down them, as if they might implode through the power of his father's spell. How he was supposed to repel it, he never knew, he didn't have that in him. He still remembered that DADA lesson when Mad-Eye had asked Harry to describe how he repelled the curse. There had been a cocktail of emotions course through Draco in that moment: envy, certainly; respect, if not awe, too, that Harry could do that; but hatred too, hatred for his father and hatred for Harry because he should be able to repel a curse with seemingly remarkable ease that he himself had struggled with for so many years.

'Tell me a happy memory from your childhood, Draco?'

'When I got the letter from Hogwarts. That meant escape. I remember the moment the letter arrived addressed to me, and seeing the wax seal on the back, and opening it cautiously, scared that I'd been rejected, only to find I had a place. My heart felt like it was jumping for joy on my behalf, I wanted to cry with happiness. Only that was marred too. Like learning to fly, the happiness was short-lived. Father didn't want me to go, because of Dumbledore, he wanted to send me to Durmstrang. Mother wouldn't have it, she wanted me close. But after that it was all about who I should be friends with, only this family or that, only purebloods, all that crap. Even Crabbe and Goyle, they were foisted upon me like bodyguards, though they were so stupid, I easily turned that dynamic around, they were positively putty in my hands and, of course, that meant that my father always received the right information about me through them. I doesn't mean I feel good about what we did, how I behaved, but it was all about pleasing my father, otherwise the school holidays were beyond a nightmare. And, of course, then father had to wangle his way onto the Board of Governors, so school was never the escape I longed for, it was about being a Malfoy, then a Slytherin, then, eventually, a Deatheater. So, after a while, the mask became a permanent feature. Yes, it awarded me certain privileges, but the truth was, I hated it, and I was lonely. It's lonely being Draco Malfoy.'