How Are You, Really? (Drarry)

Chapter Fifty-One: Blood Wards

Draco drew his wand slowly as he turned to his mother, pointing it directly at her face. "You did what, Mother?"

Her smile never faltered. "You weren't listening, Draco. I wasn't asking you to do those things; I was telling you what needed to be done as a Malfoy. But you've never listened to a word I say; that's why we're in this mess. Now put down the wand and come along like a good son would."

Draco didn't lower his wand. His arm was shaking with suppressed rage. "Blood wards, Mother. No one can get in or out without your permission. If I remember correctly, the only way to break the curse is if you lift it or you die. Am I correct?"

Her smile stayed in place, although her eyes took on a frenzied glare. "You always were a good student, Draco. Yes, that is correct."

"Take them down. Now." Sparks flew from the end of his wand, but she just batted them away lazily.

"No."

"Yes."

"I will not. Just listen to me, Son."

"I will not!" shouted Draco. "The last time I listened to you, I was branded with the Dark Mark! I'll never listen to you again, Mother!" His outstretched arm was shaking, and to his confusion, he watched a beetle crawl along his sleeve towards the wand. His mother's eyes were on it as well. Together they watched it fly off into the air. For a moment, they were united, but it lasted only as long as it took the beetle to disappear.

"Put the wand down, Draco," his mother commanded once more.

"Not until you take down the wards."

"What, are you going to duel your own mother?" she sneered the trademark Malfoy sneer.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Watch me."

Before his mother could draw her wand fully, Draco had already cast the first hex at her. She doubled over in pain. "Let me leave, Mother, and no one gets hurt. And by no one, I mean you," he hissed.

Straightening up, Narcissa glared at her son, her features twisted with hate. "You are no son of mine." She threw out her wand arm and cast a jinx at Draco, who narrowly avoided being hit. They began to circle each other in the entryway.

"Why can't you just be a good boy?" Narcissa asked, sending a stinging hex at her son.

Draco dodged it. "If you weren't asking me to do immoral things, I might." He threw a jinx at her meant to temporarily immobilize her. She leaped out of the way.

Draco had to admit his mother was a worthwhile opponent. She was quick and agile, and they were evenly matched. That is, they were until she cast crucio. Draco was so stunned from hearing the word leave her mouth he didn't think to block the spell. White-hot agony raced through his veins, and he screamed out, his cry echoing those that chased the hallways. He thought he would die from the pain; he welcomed the idea of death as long as this stopped.

And then it was over, and he was laying in a heap on the floor, his wand involuntarily thrown away from him in his thrashings. Narcissa bent and picked it up.

"Now, will you listen?"

Defiant to his very core Draco sneered up at his mother. "You are no mother of mine. I will not listen to you."

Narcissa bent down and backhanded Draco as hard as she could. His head snapped back with a crack. "You will not speak to me in such a manner," she hissed.

Draco slowly got to his feet and stared at the woman who had given birth to him. He had memories from when he was much younger of her playing with him every chance she got, of spoiling him absolutely rotten. It was only as he got older that things had changed, and she had withdrawn. But never in a million years had he ever considered the possibility that he would be standing before her after she crucioed him. That was his father's job, not hers.

"What happened to you, Mother?"

Before she could reply, Draco launched himself at her tackling her to the ground and yanking his wand from her grasp. She kicked him in the stomach as they grappled on the floor. Succeeding in extracting himself from her, Draco narrowly dodged another crucio cast at him. Anger boiled in his blood.

Suddenly the air was full of flying spells as mother and son dueled more seriously than they had before. All around them, paintings were shrieking as they were hit, glass exploding in showers of dust. Still, they battled on.

Draco just wanted his mother to stop, and his hexes and jinxes were only meant to subdue her, not cause her injury. It pained Draco to realize his mother didn't care if she hurt him – she was casting both legal and illegal spells at him, desperate for one to hit its mark.

"Protego!" Draco shouted. The spell his mother had cast rebounded off his shield charm and hit her straight in the heart. The shock from the impact was frozen on her face as she crumpled to the ground.

Draco knew she was dead before he even moved. The doors to the manor were thrown open, and a small horde of people entered to see his arm still outstretched towards his mother's body. He glanced up to find his friends staring back at him in horror. The rest of the group was made up of Aurors. As the dust settled around them, the leader of the group cleared his throat. "Draco Malfoy, you're under arrest for murder in the first degree. Come with me."