Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. They belong to JK Rowling. I'm not making any money from this. Flames will be used to heat my house.

Let Me Be Free

Draco lay in the corner, trying desperately to control his emotions. If his father heard him crying he would be punished for sure. He sucked on his thumb which had long been a means of comforting and silencing himself. Despite his efforts the tears still came, spilling down his cheeks. He drew inward, trying to find his usual place. The place where pain did not exist and he would feel nothing.

Every summer it was the same. Draco would come home and immediately be stripped of all his worldly possessions. Lucius would lock his son's school things away in a hidden part of the house where they would remain until it was time for the school year to start again. Even his clothing would be taken away. The luxurious silks and velvets that Draco was allowed at school for the sake of appearances would be replaced with faded, stained muggle clothing. Draco would then too be locked away in the spare bedroom up on the north floor. It was the farthest room away from the rest of the house and had once been a study of some sort. Now it was Draco's prison. It was furnished with only a bare mattress and a stake that held a rusty old chain. Draco dreaded that more than anything else. To ensure that he didn't try to escape, the chain was padlocked to his ankle and remained there until either Lucius or Narcissa saw fit to remove it.

Footsteps sounded down the hall and Draco immediately tensed. He was sure that it was his father, back to deliver more punishment. However, instead of the familiar key in the lock, the wooden slat at the bottom of the door was pulled back and a brown hand shoved in a tray of food. A house elf.

Draco scrambled over as far as the rusty chain would allow. He was able to just grasp the tray and pull it towards him. His dinner for that night was a lump of leftover chicken and cold mashed potatoes slathered in equally cold gravy. Nevertheless, it was heaven. Draco ate with his hands, relishing the taste of the food. It had been a full two days since he had last eaten because Lucius had been punishing him for crying again. Draco finished gulping down his meal and pushed the tray back towards the door.

Footsteps sounded yet again but they were far too heavy to be a house elf this time. Draco scrambled backwards into the corner, wishing and praying that he could somehow dissapear. A key was inserted and the door was unlocked. Instead of Lucius though, Narcissa stood in the doorway. She was a rare sight to Draco, only appearing every so often to check on him. She approached him stiffly and produced another key from the pocket of her robes. She bent down and unlocked the padlock on the chain.

"You are to meet your father in his study."

She turned away and left. Draco stared after her retreating back, wanting to reach out to her, wanting something more than just cold recognition of his existance. He didn't dare say a word though. He was too afraid.

After a few moments Draco rose shakily to a standing position. He gripped the wall, trying to force himself to stay upright. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, he told himself. A steady rhythm developed and soon he was continuing down the hallway, into his father's looked up when he heard Draco come in.

"Ah, good afternoon Draco," he said in a falsly cheerful tone. "I suppose you ate well tonight?"

"Yes sir," Draco whispered.

The automatic response was one that had been well conditioned over the years. After many horrific punishments these were words that Draco never forgot to utter when addressing his father. Lucius smiled.

"Today is the last day of summer. I suppose you'll be dissapointed to hear that," he said idly.

"Yes sir. It is always my least favourite day of the entire year," Draco said.

Good, he thought. Just keep telling him what he wants to hear.

"Well, it is the beginning of something great. You will be entering your last year. There will be cause for celebration and of course initiation," Lucius said.

He was looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. Dread rose in the pit of Draco's stomach. Initiation. Of course. That meant becoming a Death Eater. Draco took a ragged breath.

"I am looking forward to that father," Draco said.

Lucius' grin faded.

"You had better be. No son of mine will ever defy me. Ever," he threatened.

"Yes sir," Draco said.

Lucius seemed satisfied and decided to change the subject.

"We will be going into Diagon Alley this afternoon to buy your schoolbooks. You will go shower, change, and be presentable in half an hour. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"You are dismissed."

Draco left the room and headed for the bathroom. He locked the door, turned on the shower, and let it run for a bit. It had been nearly two months since he had been allowed the luxury of a warm shower. Draco stepped in and breathed a sigh of contentment. He grabbed a bar of soap and began to scrub, desperatly trying to wash two months worth of accumulated filth from his body.

Draco heaved a sigh of relief. There would be only one more day of living in Malfoy Manner and then he would be free for yet another year. But then school would be over and so would his period of temporary freedom. He would be locked away in the north floor again, this time maybe for good. There would be no school to look forward to after his seventh year, only the never-ending cycle of his father's abuse. A loud knock sounded on the door.

"Dobby has come to tell you sir that you have ten minutes to be done in the bathroom. Master Lucius says so," a reedy voice sounded from beyond the door.

Draco did not reply. He opened the medicine cabinet and started hunting for his razor. It had been entirely too long since he had shaved and a scruffy blonde beard had grown in. Another knock sounded at the door.

"Dobby has come to tell you sir that you must be done now. Master Lucius said that he demands it," Dobby squeaked.

Draco ignored him once again. He was turning the razor over and over in his hand, thinking about using it for something other than shaving. Will it be sharp enough? he thought. Draco closed his eyes. Oh, to be free. It was the last coherent thought that entered his mind before he took the blade from the razor and started cutting himself. From beyond the door came Lucius' angry voice.

"Open this door now! If you don't you'll wish that you'd never been born boy!" he screamed.

Draco did not anser. He was too busy slicing into the veins in his wrists. Lucius continued screaming and pounding on the door. Eventually he rammed his shoulder into the door repeatedly until it broke down. It was too late though. Draco lay on the equisite marble floor. A pool of blood flowed from his wrists.

Lucius and Narcissa rushed him to St. Mungo's but there was nothing the healers could do. Draco's fragile body bled and bled until finally his life slipped away. He was finally free.

The End