Potter!

Malfoy Manor

The emptiness of the Manor seemed to engulf Draco as soon as he stepped over the threshold. The bitter energy, the ghosts of the past. It was as if Voldemort was buried beneath them and was haunting the halls, looking for revenge. The atmosphere was completely different to the warm, friendly Hogwarts. Even the air seemed to freeze ones breath and cool the heart. It was a void of all affection and good.

No wonder Draco couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts every summer. Except the summer of his 16th birthday, perhaps. But then again, he'd gotten used to the coldness of the Manor, as he had allowed it to seep inside him in order to do the dark Lords bidding.

Narcissa greeted her son at the door, a warming hug which was laced with every bit of pity she could muster, for she knew what was coming. Draco guessed that not everyone's mother could save them with love, like Lily Potter had.

He entered the dining room, where his father was waiting ominously, his face masked by the shadows and his wand laying ready on the table before him. Narcissa took the seat beside him, her head hung low in shame.

"Draco." His father made every effort to smile, but though his teeth showed and his mouth widened, it was more of a growl than a grin.

"Father." Draco choked on his own fear, trying desperately to sound confident and shameless.

"Nice of you to visit now. After all, we didn't see you at all on Christmas. Having fun with your new friends I suppose." Every word Lucius spoke was loosely coated in sweetness and affection for his son, but there was no doubt in Draco's mind that the bitterness and anger lay underneath, waiting to pounce on him.

"I'm sorry." Draco didn't even bother with an excuse. Everything that came to mind was pitiful or idiotic. His father wouldn't believe a word.

"You should be." Lucius fumed, raising his voice now, the echo floating menacingly around the dark room. "No word for months! No sign of you showing you care about your poor old parents! No visits since last summer! And then we get word that you're with the Potter boy! The boy who murdered our master! And not just friends with him, you're fucking the half blood scum!"

Draco noted that though his voice was raised and his eyes almost glowing red, he hadn't raised his wand yet which was a good sign. But as much as he hoped he would be getting away without a scratch, he knew that this was worse that any of the now small irrelevant things he had done as a child.

At his silence, Lucius stood up from his seat, violently scraping the chair backwards across the dark wood floor. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Draco remained defiantly still, refusing to even let his lip tremble to show his weakness.

"You're a blood traitor. A disappointment to this family and the cause we stood for! Voldemort himself may be gone but there is still hope for a world in which purebloods rule. You have clearly forgotten all that passed before the war, and the oath you took with the dark mark on your arm! But I will make you see that half-blood Potter and his mudblood and blood traitor friends are not worthy of the wizarding world." His words were like fire, blistering Draco's skin and filling up his lungs with thick smoke, choking him.

"You are a pureblood, Draco, and nothing, not even your precious Potter, can change that. And as long as I live, I will assure that you keep our bloodline pure."

At Draco's continued silence, Lucius grabbed his wand, pointing it at his son in rage. His wife desperately clung onto his arm in an attempt to stop him hurting their son but he threw her off like dirt on his shoe.

"Now, you'll get what you deserve." His mouth twisted into a malicious grin, that he likened to the one that was stuck on Voldemort's face when he thought he had finally killed the chosen one.

"Crucio." He snarled.

Draco shut his eyes tight as if that would help him, feeling the familiar pain coarsing through his body. He fell to his knees and curled up, as he had done before when his father used that spell on him as a child.

Fortunately for him now, when he filled his mind with thoughts of Harry, the pain lessened. The spark when their skin touched, their warm bodies pressed together, his calming, sweet scent, the taste of his lips when they made out high up on the Quiddich stands, the softness of his jet black hair through his fingers, their legs tangled together in the sheets as they slept in each others arms, the look of love in his eyes when they made eye contact, his laughter, his perfect smile. It was all as if it was a dream now.

Draco didn't scream when his father hit him. To be honest he hadn't even noticed that the pain had disappeared and was replaced with the pain from a blow to the head.

"Draco! I'm speaking to you!" His father bellowed from somewhere above.

"Yes, Father." He croaked, his limbs only just beginning to ache. Despite he blurred vision through tears that clouded his eyes, he could see his mother, her face screwed up and avoiding his gaze. She didn't care enough to stop him, or maybe she was too afraid to get hurt herself.

"Get up." Lucius boomed, his voice breaking through the ringing in Draco's ears.

He stood slowly, trying not to seem defeated, though he was wobbly and had to steady himself on the nearby sideboard to make it. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that Harry Potter loved him so he had something to live for, he faced his father's malignant face.

"The Dark lord has one more task for you, Draco. I'm am going to make sure, this time you, and you alone carry it out. I'm sure he would be proud." Lucius smirked, his lips twisting fiercely with a kind of wicked pleasure.

Draco swallowed dryly, he never thought he'd have to face this again, 2 years on. Another task, from beyond the grave.

"And do you know what will happen if do you not carry out the deed?" His father spoke with his voice as torturing as he could make it.

He shook his head. It was the only move he could make at that moment. If he opened his mouth, he was afraid he might throw up.

His father glanced at his mother and then back at him. "Innocent people will die, son. You don't want that, do you?"

Draco stared in horror. Not his mother, surely his father would not harm her. He was supposed to love her. Rage filled his veins with pure fire and he balled his fists in determination. "What do I have to do?"

Lucius grinned, pure malice enveloping his features. He had won, like he always expected. They may not have won the war, but they would win over the chosen one. And he had a soft spot for Draco, so it was going to be so easy.

Moving closer to his son, he took him by the shoulder as if congratulating him on his new task. A repeat of the awkward gesture they had taken part in just 2 years before. The world was completely still as Lucius spoke, his voice a harsh whisper against Draco's eardrums.

"All you have to do, my boy, is kill Harry Potter."