Worthless, ungrateful child
Draco (Age 10)
Draco moved listlessly through the grand, yet chilling corridors of the manor, the echo of his footsteps the only sound to break the oppressive silence. Solitude was his constant companion. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was an increasingly absent figure in his life.
From the tender age of five, Draco had been burdened with the weight of the Malfoy legacy. The expectations were impossibly high, the standards suffocating. His days were consumed by grueling studies, punctuated by the torture of dance and etiquette lessons. Even the simple joy of seeing his friends, his only respite from the manor's icy grip, was a rare luxury. Lucius had always been a distant, emotionally unavailable father. Their interactions were limited mainly to dinners, where Lucius would relentlessly berate him, demanding he strive harder, be better. Draco would silently endure, nodding in compliance, desperate for the ordeal to end.
One evening, in particular, his father was particularly harsh, criticizing him for not completing his studies.
Lucius's voice dripped with disdain, each word a venomous barb aimed at Draco's heart. "Worthless, ungrateful child. You have no idea how lucky you are to be afforded the education that you have been."
Draco's head dipped in a nod, his expression carefully blank. The sting of his father's words had long since dulled into a familiar ache. Years of relentless criticism had built a wall around his emotions.
Lucius's patience snapped. "Are you even listening to me?!" he roared, his face contorted in fury.
Draco's voice was monotone, devoid of any emotion. "Yes, father," he replied, his eyes fixed on his plate. And so the charade continued, a silent dance of resentment and resignation playing out across the dining table.
Lucius raised his wand, “I could be so much worse you know, I would be happy to demonstrate.”
Draco's heart suddenly pounded like a drum against his ribs. He could practically feel the blood beneath his skin begin to boil, each pulse a surge of heat and fury. His father now stood before him, his wand raised like a venomous serpent poised to strike. A cold, icy resolve settled over Draco as he locked eyes with the man who had tried to instill fear in him for as long as he could remember.
"Lower your wand," Draco's voice was a blade cutting through the tension, each word dripping with a chilling cold.
Lucius's face twisted in a cruel sneer. "CRUCIO!" The curse exploded from his wand, a streak of malevolent energy aimed directly at Draco's small body.
His screams echoed through the chamber as an agonizing wave of pain ripped through his body. It was a searing, white-hot agony that eclipsed anything he had ever felt before. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, contorting his body into grotesque shapes, and every nerve ending screamed in protest. The force of the pain slammed him to the stone floor with a sickening crack, and his body began to convulse violently under the relentless spell.
His father, his face twisted with exertion, momentarily halted his brutal assault. His chest heaved, ragged breaths rasping through his gritted teeth as he glared down at him, his eyes filled with a chilling mix of sadism and exhaustion.
Draco's vision was beginning to swim and blur, the edges of his sight fading to a threatening darkness. Anger, hot and potent, surged through him, and a crimson haze seemed to overlay his vision as he locked eyes with his father.
Draco felt his consciousness, a swirling vortex of power and determination, stretched and expanded, reaching out like invisible tendrils into the depths of his father's mind. Lucius, caught off guard, froze as the power enveloped his own, a strong, invasive grip that held him captive.
A surge of dominance coursed through Draco, and with a ruthless twist of his own will, he seized control of Lucius's free will, molding it like soft clay beneath his mental touch. Lucius's body fought against his own commands, a silent struggle visible in the tremor of his hand as he was forced to raise his wand, pointing it directly at his own chest. A spell erupted from the tip of the wand, unleashed against his own will, his power a puppet to his son's absolute control.
A tortured scream tore from his father's lips as he crumpled to the ground, his body contorted in agony. Draco observed the scene with quiet fascination, his eyes were alight with a flicker of morbid curiosity. A subtle smirk played on his lips, hinting at a dark satisfaction at the spectacle of his father’s suffering. Lucius's eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and reverence, locked onto his son. A silent plea emanated from his eyes, begging for release. Draco abruptly severed the connection of the curse. Without a word, he turned and strode from the room, leaving the echo of his father's ragged gasps hanging in the air.
In the aftermath, his father became a ghost in their own home, his presence fleeting and filled with a palpable unease. The memory of that day, of the raw power his ten-year-old son had wielded, hung heavy in the air, but they never spoke of it. Lucius, once so quick to discipline, now kept his opinions quiet.
*****
Draco soared into the boundless sky on his broom, the wind whipping past him as he circled the sprawling estate at breathtaking speeds. The air was his sanctuary, a realm where he felt truly free. But as he flew near the Manor’s maze, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A small figure, barely visible from his vantage point, was walking near one of the maze entrances.
He descended and landed his broom soundlessly. He crept closer, peering around a corner of the dense hedge. A girl, seemingly around his own age, came into view. He couldn't make out many details before she vanished into the maze's shadowy depths.
Confusion mingled with curiosity. What was a girl doing at Malfoy Manor? And why would she venture into the infamous Malfoy Manor maze, known throughout the wizarding world for the darkness that crawled within?
Determined to uncover the mystery, Draco made a decision. He drew his wand, whispering a silent disillusionment charm, and followed the girl's path inside.
The maze's intricate twists and turns proved to be a challenge. Draco, despite his familiarity with its paths, found himself momentarily disoriented. Then, a piercing scream echoed from the maze's heart, jolting him into action.
He broke into a sprint, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Rounding a sharp corner, he finally caught sight of the girl. She stood defiant, wandless, yet conjuring what appeared to be tendrils of Fiendfyre from her very fingertips.
He was mesmerized. Such raw, untamed power emanating from someone so young was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Magnificent, he thought, a flicker of admiration warming his heart.
The girl's wide, fear-filled eyes locked with his. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, then, with a desperate cry, the flames dancing at her fingertips were extinguished.
"ARYS!" she screamed, her voice raw with panic, and bolted towards him.
Arys? He thought, confusion clouding his mind. Before he could process further, the girl crashed into him with surprising force, knocking the air from his lungs. Sobs wracked her body as she clung to him, burying her face in his neck. "You found me," she choked out, her voice muffled. "Thank you, thank you..."
He froze, taken aback by the unexpected intimacy. No one had ever hugged him before. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, inhaling her scent of lavender and honey. Her soft curls tickled his face, and he felt an inexplicable urge to draw her closer. She was the most captivating creature he had ever encountered. Her thick, dark curly hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, framing a face of delicate features. Large, expressive brown eyes sparkled with an intelligence that captivated him, and her skin glowed with a warm, sun-kissed glow.
She pulled back from him. Tears streamed down her face and he resisted the urge to wipe them away.
"Arys, we have to get out of here. The maze is playing tricks... it's made your hair and eyes to look like Lucius's..."
He stared at her, utterly bewildered. Was she mad?
"Arys, did you hear me? We need to leave, now!"
The girl stepped back, their hands still entwined. She squeezed his hand three times, a gesture that only deepened his confusion.
Then, he allowed his mind to gently brush against hers, seeking answers. Heat coursed through his veins as he entered her thoughts, a warmth spreading throughout his body. The connection was intoxicating, unlike anything he had ever felt. Who was this girl? Her mind was a revelation. It was so organized, her memories meticulously filed away like rows of books in a grand library. Each recollection was clear, accessible, proof of a mind both sharp and disciplined. It was evident that she possessed an intellect that was nothing short of extraordinary.
"What's happening?" she gasped. She had obviously never experienced Legilimency.
He remained silent, delving deeper into her memories.
In the first memory, he practically felt her fear as she arrived at the manor for the first time with Severus Snape. He watched her arrive at an unfamiliar cottage, guided by his father and greeted by his house-elf, Mippy.
Draco’s breath hitched as the next memory surfaced. She was meeting a boy for the first time, but not just any boy, a boy with his exact face, identical in every way except for the color of his hair and eyes.
He continued his exploration of her mind, trying his best to be gentle, despite his desperate need for answers. He watched more memories of the girl and the boy, their laughter echoing through his consciousness. He watched them play, read, and share whispered secrets in the quiet intimacy of their shared bed, their hands entwined in a silent promise of unwavering loyalty. It stirred a pang of jealousy within him. Their bond was unlike any love he had ever experienced, a connection so pure and profound it left him aching with a longing he couldn't quite define.
He lost control and the magic snapped, throwing them both violently backward. The girl fell to the ground, her gaze locking with his, wide with bewilderment.
"Arys... what was that?" she whispered, her breath misting in the cold air.
He didn't answer, his own breaths growing shallow. Without a word, he turned and approached the hedge, tapping it with his wand and murmuring an incantation. An archway appeared, and he stepped through, disappearing into the darkness without looking back. He needed to find his father. He needed answers.
****
He burst into his father's study without knocking. Lucius looked up, concern furrowing his brow as Draco silently took the seat across from him. Removing his reading glasses, Lucius stared at his son, awaiting an explanation for the unexpected intrusion.
"Who is Arys?" Draco's voice was quiet, but his eyes bore into his father's with an intensity that demanded answers.
The color drained from Lucius's face, leaving him momentarily speechless. After a tense pause, he finally responded, his voice curt. "He is none of your concern."
"WHO IS HE?" Draco growled, his patience wearing thin.
Lucius, seemingly choosing avoidance, picked up his glasses and resumed his reading, blatantly ignoring his son.
Draco didn't hesitate. With a surge of power, he smashed through his father's Occlumency shields - feeble barriers against his own abilities - and forcefully delved into his father's memories.
He saw Lucius cradling a blonde baby, tears streaming down his face as he watched Narcissa gaze at the other dark haired infant, her eyes filled with love. Elves fluttered around, attempting to heal Narcissa’s broken body as the color slowly crept from her face. There was so much blood, but she didn't appear afraid, only filled with love as she looked between her twin babies.
Narcissa's head fell back onto the pillow, her eyes fluttering weakly. "Lucius, my love, take Arys."
Lucius obeyed without a word, taking the dark haired baby from her and cradling both newborns in his arms.
"Please take care of them. Tell them their mother loved them from the moment she found out they were growing inside of her," she whispered, her voice frail.
"Cissa, please, hold on, please don't leave me," Lucius sobbed.
"Take my tears, Lucius, please. Save them in case you ever need them."
"Cissa, please," Lucius cried out again.
Draco watched as his mother reached for a vial on the side table, letting her tears fall into it. It was her final act before she departed this world.
Overwhelmed with grief, Lucius collapsed to the floor, clutching both babies tightly in his arms, his screams echoing through the room.
Draco abruptly withdrew from his father's mind, a wave of shock washing over him. The revelation of a twin brother was staggering enough, but the raw, unfiltered grief he had witnessed in his father's memories was even more unsettling. Lucius Malfoy, the epitome of cold, aristocratic composure, had been reduced to a sobbing, broken man. It was a side of his father Draco had never imagined, and it left him reeling.
"Why?" Draco finally managed to say, his voice barely a whisper. "Why keep him a secret?"
Lucius was still panting, struggling to regain his composure after reliving the agonizing loss of his wife. "Malfoy history is littered with the wreckage of twin rivalries," he said, his voice strained. "They have nearly destroyed the Malfoy legacy countless times. We could not allow that to happen again. We can only have one heir."
Draco was incredulous. "How could you subject a son to such a fate?"
"Once Arys comes of age, he will leave the estate," Lucius continued, his voice hollow. "He will want for nothing, and have unlimited access to the Malfoy vaults." He paused, his voice becoming quiet, almost a whisper. "He'll start a new life, with a new surname, and disappear forever. I couldn't bear to lose another person I love. I couldn't endure it again. It's better for everyone if we keep our distance."
The raw vulnerability in his father's voice hung heavy in the air. It was the most emotionally open he had ever been with Draco. Yet, despite the unexpected glimpse into his father's heart, Draco couldn't help but scoff. Lucius had always maintained a distance from everyone, including his own family. The logic behind his decision seemed warped and self-serving. But Draco knew it was futile to try and unravel the complexities of his father's mind.
Draco weighed his next words carefully, his voice firm when he finally spoke. "I want the girl," he demanded.
Lucius stared at his son in disbelief. "The Mudblood?"
"Yes," Draco said evenly, his gaze unwavering. "I want her to be mine."
"Draco, I cannot do that," Lucius replied, his tone hesitant. "Arys has already bonded with her. I will find you your own mudblood."
Draco's blood simmered at the suggestion. "I don't want a different mudblood. I want her."
"No, Draco. I can't do that."
"Fine," Draco conceded, his voice laced with frustration. "Then bring them both to the Manor. It's absurd that they are hidden away in some cottage. Bring your son home. Keep your distance from him, the same way you have with me. This isn't what our mother would have wanted."
Lucius's posture stiffened, his jaw clenching at the unexpected sting of his son's words. A flicker of pain crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with his usual stoic demeanor. After a brief, tense silence, he finally spoke.
"No," he said, his voice firm and resolute.
Draco rose to his feet and moved towards the door, pausing to look back at his father. Their identical silver eyes met in a silent exchange, a flicker of defiance passing between them. "He has her eyes," Draco said softly, the words heavy with unspoken meaning. Then, without another word, he turned and left his father alone with his memories and the weight of his choices.
Back in his room, Draco tossed and turned in his bed, unable to find peace. Every time he closed his eyes, her face materialized, those captivating brown eyes gazing at him with a mixture of love and trust that both thrilled and unnerved him. The lingering scent of lavender and honey clung to his clothes, and he never wanted it to fade.
Frustration gnawed at him. With a growl, he leapt from his bed, grabbed his broom, and set out to find the cottage where she and his brother were hidden. He had to see her again, to unravel the mysteries that surrounded her and the inexplicable connection they shared.
He located the cottage with surprising ease. Guided by the inexplicable pull, he soared through the night sky, his broom cutting through the darkness. Upon reaching the cottage, he spotted an open window and, without hesitation, flew inside.
The room was unmistakably hers. The air was infused with her now familiar scent and books were piled neatly on every surface. He perched on her bed, a wave of longing washing over him. He yearned to be the one sharing this space with her, to be the source of her laughter and comfort in the quiet hours of the night.
His eyes fell upon a drawing resting on the side table. He picked it up, his heart constricting at the image. It depicted the four of them - her, his brother, Mippy, and Dolly - a portrait of a happy family.
The sight twisted something inside him. This drawing represented everything he had ever craved, a sense of belonging and unconditional love that had always eluded him. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he realized the stark contrast between the picture and his own reality. A small fox hopped on the bed and cuddled into his side. He stroked it gently as he continued to stare at the drawing.
When he heard her scream behind him, he didn’t turn. He wasn’t ready to face her, knowing that she would never be his.
"I must have flown over this place a hundred times," Draco muttered without turning, a hint of sadness in his voice, "never noticing the wards that hid it."
He finally stood, tossing the framed drawing carelessly onto the bed. Turning, he faced them, his silver eyes piercing the girl's before settling on his twin brother for the first time.
All the color drained from Ary’s face as he took in Draco.
"Who are you?" Arys's voice trembled with what seemed to be a mixture of fear and curiosity.
Draco paused, then spoke, his tone cold and flat. "I spoke with our father. You are my brother. My twin, in case it wasn't obvious. He lied to us both."
"Who is your father?" Arys asked, his voice laced with trepidation.
"Lucius Malfoy."
The name hung heavily in the air. "Lucius... is my father?"
"Yes. But don't get your hopes up. He'll only disappoint you."
"And our mother?"
"She died giving birth to us. I never knew her."
Arys fell silent, swallowing hard. "How is this possible?"
"Well, Arys, when a man and a woman love each other very much..." Draco's voice dripped with sarcasm, a bitter edge to his words.
"No, I mean... why? Why did he keep this a secret? Keep us a secret?"
"He hasn't kept me a secret. I'm the Malfoy heir, I attend Hogwarts, I live at the Manor. As for why... you'll have to ask him."
Arys looked devastated and Draco felt a pang of guilt. The girl reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly in a gesture of comfort. Silence descended upon the room, thick and oppressive. Draco's eyes lingered on their joined hands, a pang of jealousy piercing his heart.
"Try not to look so upset, brother," he said, his gaze shifting to the girl. "It seems you got the better end of the bargain."
Without another word, he grabbed his broom and climbed onto the window ledge.
"What's your name?" the girl asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He didn't answer as he launched himself into the night. Arys and the girl rushed to the window, watching him hover in the darkness.
"Will you be back?" Arys called out, his voice hushed. "Will Lucius allow it?"
"My father doesn't control me," Draco replied, turning his broom. "Quite the opposite, actually."
"For what it's worth," Arys said, his voice filled with longing, "I've always wanted a brother."
"That makes one of us," Draco lied, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. Then, with a final twist of his broom, he vanished into the night.
*****
Back at the manor, Draco sought solace in his bed once more, but sleep remained elusive. His thoughts swirled with images of the girl, the inexplicable connection they'd shared humming beneath his skin. The moment their magic entwined had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He revisited the memory of her mind, its organized brilliance, the warmth of their mental touch.
Suddenly, his vision blurred, and he was pulled into the depths of his own consciousness. He found himself standing in a dimly lit hallway, a massive archway looming at its end. Curiosity propelled him forward, despite a flicker of unease. The walls seemed to breathe, rippling and shifting around him.
Stepping through the archway, he entered a vast, empty room. And there she stood, her presence filling the space. Their eyes met, a silent conversation passing between them. She was a vision in a matching pale pink pajama set. Her hair was tousled in a way that made her look even more adorable. A light blush warmed her cheeks, highlighting a dusting of freckles across her nose. But it was her eyes that held him captive, those beautiful brown orbs now sparkling with flecks of gold, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. In that moment, she stole his breath away, leaving him momentarily speechless. This was uncharted territory, a realm seemingly created for them. He continued to observe her, a sense of wonder washing over him.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the vision dissolved. The girl and the room faded, leaving him alone in the darkness of his own mind.