...Once upon a time there was a boy...

In his early years he had to learn...

How to grow up living in a war that he called home...

Never knew just where to turn for shelter from the storm...

Hurt me to see the pain across my mother's face...

Everytime my father's fist would put her in her place...

Hearing all the yelling I would cry up in my room...

Hoping it would be over soon...

“Shut-him-up,” Lucius Malfoy growled into his pillows, using his arm to shove Narcissa out of the bed.

Stumbling back a bit before regaining herself, Narcissa frowned down at her husband who had a pillow shoved down over his head. “Lucius, he is only a baby...” she began in a soft voice, “this is the first night he’s been home from the hospital. He doesn’t know where he is yet, and he’s not used to-”

She was cut off when Lucius sat up and smacked a hand down onto the mattress.

“I told you to shut him up. I don’t need him wailing in one ear and you yaking into the other. Now hurry the hell up Narcissa, before I go in there and shut him up myself,” he said through his teeth, his eyes cold and his jaw clenched.

Narcissa pursed her lips and did up her nightrobe, moving her eyes down to the floor. She knew that Lucius was far from kidding when he threatened to shut their child up on his own, and she also knew that he certainly didn’t mean rocking him back to sleep. Before he could change his mind, Narcissa hurried out of their bedroom, shutting the door behind herself and heading quietly down the hall to her new sons room.

Smiling down into her babies crib, she gently scooped him up into her arms and moved to sit in the rocking chair in the corner, hugging the infant close to herself. He had her fair complexion and his Fathers’ blue-grey eyes. As of now, her sons eyes were bright and alert, full of wonder and curiosity. Not cold and spiteful like those of the ones they resembled. At the moment they were open wide, but were already drooping occasionally. His crying had ceased the minute his Mother had touched him.

Her smiling broadening, Narcissa gently rested her son against her chest, laughing softly as he buried his head into her shoulder. His little hands clung to her nightrobe tightly and one tiny little foot brushed against her side as he moulded himself to her. She rubbed his back gently in a slow circular motion, rocking in the chair. She didn’t think he wanted anything more than attention. He loved to be touched, held, cuddled, and she loved showering him with that kind of attention.

However, she knew that this wouldn’t last long. Lucius had already made it quite clear that his child was to be treated like a boy, not some pansy little girl that needed to be hugged whenever he scraped his knee. He needed a son to carry his family name on with pride, and no Mummys’ boy would be accepted in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy...

...Broken bones heal father, but the pain remains the same...

And I still remember how you kept me so afraid...

Strength is my mother for all the love she gave...

Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday...

And I'm Okay...

Draco rubbed his eyes with his fists, kicking his legs and crying softly. He wanted his Mother, he wanted his Father, he wanted someone...He was too young to know where he was, and far too young to get up and move himself.

Truth be told, Lucius had supposed to have been watching him when Narcissa went to the doctor. She hadn’t been feeling her best lately and Lucius blamed Draco. Leaving his son alone in the master bedroom, lying alone in the middle of the big bed in the cold room, Lucius had gone down to Knockturn Alley to do some trading. Draco had been asleep when he left, and had now woken up confused, frightened, cold, and hungry. Things a child his age should never be...

Resorting to the only thing he knew how to do, Draco started to sob loudly, screaming so hard it hurt his lungs as he kicked his little legs furiously, balling his hands into tight fists.

His pitiful sobs echoed throughout the cold dark manor without a soul to hear him...

...I often wonder why I carry all this guilt...

When it's you that helped me put up all these walls I've built...

Shadows stir at night through a crack in the door...

The echo of a broken child screaming "please no more"...

Daddy, don't you understand the damage you have done...

To you it's just a memory, but for me it still lives on...

One step...two steps...wobble...three steps...fours steps...the table got gradually closer and closer until Draco could reach out his fingertips and touch it. Making a small gurgle of delight at finally reaching his desired destination, Draco bounced up and down on his chubby little legs, a big grin spread across his face.

He didn’t have long to marvel at his triumph however, because soon he was swept up into someone’s arms, his feet leaving the floor.

Turning him around, Narcissa smiled and held Draco up over her head, grinning up at her son. “You’re walking! That’s my little dragon!”

She cooed lovingly, gently tipping him from side to side as he laughed delightedly. In reality, he’d been walking for about a week, but no one had been around to notice...

***

Pouting, Draco looked around his playpen. The brightly coloured object stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark living room of Malfoy Manor. From somewhere upstairs, he could hear his parents having a screaming argument, but this didn’t bother him at all. Screaming, cursing, and yelling were all very common things where he lived, and they no longer fazed him.

He didn’t know how long he’d been alone. Hours...He had no toys to keep him entertained, a playpen without toys. Almost like a school without books, a petshop without puppies...in a way it was almost like a cage. Just four walls to keep him in one place while his parents did as they pleased, leaving him sitting alone...hours on end...all alone...slowly he began to cry, rubbing his eyes roughly with his little fists as the tears streamed down his pale cheeks.

...Cuts stop bleeding father, but the pain remains the same...

And I still remember how you kept me so, so afraid...

Strength is my mother for all the love she gave...

Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday...

Sitting in his highchair with a bowl on his head, Draco rocked back and forth making different noises with his mouth. “Bap bap bap bap,” he repeated, beating his hands against his highchair as he kicked his legs happily. Lucius was in the front hall speaking with a man in a dark cloak, and Narcissa was all the way upstairs getting ready to go out.

Growing tired of the same noise, he tried a new one. “Um mum um mum um um um,” he began, twisting around in his seat as best as he could to look over his shoulder at his Father. His noises became quieter until he was barely whispering as he began to listen to his Father saying goodbye to the other man.

When the door shut, Lucius headed through the kitchen, not even glancing at his son. Heading into the next room, he sat down at a desk and pulled out some parchment and a quill, Dracos’ eyes never leaving him the entire time.

Slowly the ‘um mums’ stopped and Draco just sat still watching his Father. The older man was just so fascinating. Beating his fists against his highchair again after a moment, he smiled and leaned forward. “Da-ee, Da-ee, DaaaaaaaaDEE, Dad, Daddy, Dadadadada, Da-ee Da-ee Daaa-eeeee” He was having the time of his life, this being his first actual word. Most parents would have been estatic, especially at having the honour of being their child’s very first word, but Lucius wasn’t an average parent.

At the moment he was busy writing a letter to the Ministry, and Dracos’ baby talk was just a distraction. Without even blinking he pulled out his wand with one hand and cast a silencing charm on Draco.

Frowning at the sudden loss of his voice, Draco grabbed his throat, trying to figure out why it had stopped. He didn’t understand, and when he didn’t understand, he cried. He clawed at his throat when he couldn’t even hear himself crying. He felt as though he had a tight rope around his neck, and though he could breathe fine, it was still coequally terrifying. He continued to scream silently until he was almost sick.

The charm was taken off about three hours later, when Lucius remembered he’d done it. Slipping his wand back into his robes, Lucius stared down at his son.

“Da-ee, Da-ee,” Draco sobbed hoarsely, rubbing his eyes furiously with his fists. Reaching his arms up towards his Father as he visibly shook.

Smacking his sons hands away, Lucius bent down so that he was eye level with his son. “Be-quiet,” he hissed through his teeth, grabbing Dracos shoulders tightly in his hands and giving him a shake which just caused Draco to begin crying again. “I said BE QUIET,” he shouted, squeezing his shoulders tightly, his hands like clamps.

Draco didn’t understand, and he just screamed louder, trying to twist out of his Fathers’ grip. All movement stopped however when he received a sharp smack across the face. He sat in shock, bringing one small hand up to rest on his cheek.

“Stupid boy,” Lucius spat before turning and leaving the kitchen in a dark billow of robes.

...It's not so easy to forget...

All the marks you left along her neck...

When I was thrown against cold stairs...

And every day I'm afraid to come home...

In fear of what I might see there...

"La mauvaise conduite entraîne la discipline. La discipline entraîne la peur. La pe ... peu ... " Five year old Draco frowned down at the sheet that sat in front of himself. His Father had insisted he’d learn French, and he wasn’t aloud dinner until he’d memorised his quote for the night. He’d been doing fine until the dark shadow that he knew belonged to his Father had loomed up from behind him. He started tripping around the words he’d known just a few moments ago, his mouth going dry. He shut his eyes and bit his lip as his Father bent over him...

"La mauvaise conduite entraîne la discipline. La discipline entraîne la peur. La peur entraîne le respect. Donc la peur est le respect," Lucius murmured coolly by his sons’ ear, his eyes not even on the paper. “What does that mean Draco?”

Licking his lips, Draco opened his eyes and stared straight ahead at the wall in front of himself. Squaring his shoulders and sitting up straight as he took in a deep breath. “Misbehaviour leads to discipline. Discipline leads to fear. Fear leads to Respect. Therefore, fear is respect,” he recited in a clear voice.

Lucius smirked as his son spoke. Nodding his approval. “Now in French”

Draco licked his lips again. "La mauvaise conduite entraîne la discipline. La discipline entraîne la peur. La peur entraîne le respect. Donc la peur est le respect," he said slowly, praying he got everything right. Sighing quietly with relief as Lucius straightened back up, he shut his eyes again and crossed his fingers under his legs.

“Now memorise the other four quotes within the hour, and I’ll consider your dinner,” Lucius said over his shoulder as he left the kitchen.

Frowning to himself, Draco watched his Fathers’ back as he walked away. That hadn’t been the deal...the deal had been he learned this quote, which he had, then get...well, it didn’t matter regardless. What his Father said went, there was no arguing with him. His word was final, so with a sigh, Draco went back to learn the other four quotes off by heart. This proved to be very difficult, since his stomachs’ growling was droning out his voice...

...Bruises fade father but the pain remains the same...

And I still remember how you kept me so afraid...

Strength is my mother for all the love she gave...

Every morning that I wake, I look back to yesterday...

And I'm Okay...

“No Father,” said Draco quietly. Pulse racing, palms sweaty, vision blurry, head spinning...Dracos’ heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he thought it might be trying to escape...and he perfectly understood why. He had just come home for the summer fresh out of his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...without the highest marks in his classes.

“A Mudblood. A filthy Mudblood beat my son - my son in Transfiguration. Tell me...” Lucius Malfoy hissed through his teeth, turning to face his son. “How. How is this possible? How did this happen? You had better have a damn good excuse boy.” Pausing for only a moment, not even long enough for Draco to blink, Lucius reached over and grabbed his son by the hair. With a strong tug, and a yelp from Draco, he yanked him over to himself. “I am waiting,” he barked.

Cringing, Draco ground his teeth together. He would not cry he would not cry he would not cry. “She...she is favoured Father. The Professors, they all love he - That is your reason? That is your excuse for failure?” Lucius cut in, tightening his grip on his sons hair.

This time he couldn’t help it. A single tear escaped the corner of his eye and tricked down his cheek. When afraid, the bodies natural reaction is fight, or flight. When both were crossed off of his list, Draco cried. He couldn’t run, his Father had a strong hold on his hair...and he sure as hell couldn’t fight. That would be a death wish. Deep down Draco knew no matter what he’d said it wouldn’t be good enough. There was no excuse for failure in the dark books of Lucius Malfoy. “I am sorry Father...so sorry...” he said softly, tilting his head back slightly to lessen the burning pressure his Father was putting on his scalp.

“Sorry? Sorry?” Lucius repeated, like he’d mis-heard his son. “Yes, sorry, sorry like I am that I had to have you as a pathetic excuse for a son. What did I do wrong in my life to deserve this - to deserveyou?” he growled, and suddenly, like he’d realized it was disgusting to be touching him, he shoved Draco back away from him, into the stairs. “Worthless...” Lucius uttered coldly with a shake of his head.

As Draco sat crying silently at the bottom of the stairs, his head bowed and his shoulders shaking...Narcissa slowly crept down behind him, a deep frown set on her pretty lips. She was sorry she had Draco for a son aswell...but not because she thought he was pathetic. Not because she thought he was a waste of air...She was just sorry that she was the one responsible from bringing him into this home...He need not fear the monsters under his bed like most little boys do. Why fear the monster under the bed, when the real monster walks around openly...

“Draco...” she whispered softly, sadly, moving to sit beside him. She knew there was nothing she could say, or do, to make him feel any better. That tore her apart inside. It was a Mothers’ instinct to protect her child...but how could she be expected to protect her son from something she feared herself? Biting down on her lip, she shut her eyes and slid her arms around him.

“Do not cry my dragon...your tears will put out your fire...and what is a dragon without his fire hm?”

Her words caused more tears, more racking sobs to echo from his small frame, and shatter off of the walls of the dark manour...not to mention shattering his Mothers heart in the mean time...

La mauvaise conduite entraîne la discipline. La discipline entraîne la peur. La peur entraîne le respect. Donc la peur est le respect ...

La mauvaise conduite entraîne la discipline. La discipline entraîne la peur. La peur entraîne le respect. Donc la peur est le respect ...

La mauvaise conduite entraîne la discipline. La discipline entraîne la peur. La peur entraîne le respect. Donc la peur est le respect ...

I’m okay...