Second chance; Second life

Disclaimer :- I own nothing but the plot, Mikayla, and the eagles.

Draco Malfoy\'s life had been destined before he was even born: the son of Lucius Malfoy, the right-hand of Voldemort. Draco would be raised as the perfect Death Eater, and, in a way, he had. At school, he commanded everyone with a steel hand, sending fear installing fear into everyone’s hearts. He never gave up, he always got what he wanted, and he was the ultimate Prince of Slytherin. However, scratch the surface, and you find someone completely different. When Draco had been five, he was called into see his Father in the study. He went willingly.

‘Ah, Draco,’ his Father had said, a smirk on his face. He sent away the house elf, and locked the door. Draco had begun to feel fear then, but, as his Father had shown him, he hid it.

‘You wanted me Father?’ he asked, standing tall and proud. His Father laughed harshly, and lifted his wand lazily.

‘Draco, what were you born for?’ Draco knew the answer; his Mother had prepared him mentally for these questions.

‘I was born to serve the Dark Lord and be the perfect Death Eater,’ he replied, and his Father laughed. Draco felt his heart contract painfully.

‘Yes, you were. And now, I must teach you some things Draco. Oh yes, I have much to teach you.’ Draco managed to stop himself trembling at the sound of his Father’s voice.

‘I would like to learn, Father,’ he replied.

‘Good.’ That day, Draco’s screams had split the air all around the Manor that he used to call home. Now, at the age of sixteen, it was Hell. For, on that day, as his Mother screamed for his release form the dungeons she was imprisoned in to keep her from interfering, Lucius Malfoy had tortured his son. First the Cruciatus Curse had been used on him for several hours, with many instruments being used in between, when, as Draco lay in his own blood, his Father had done the worst thing imaginable: he had raped him. Until he was allowed to escape to Hogwarts, Draco was tortured daily. He became accustomed to the pain his Father could inflict, and never once did a sound leave his lips, until his Father would rape him. Then he was a five year old boy again, having his innocence stolen from him cruelly.

Draco had been allowed to leave an hour before, and found his Mother waiting. Her body was broken and frail form the torture she endured trying to save her son, and she washed the blood from his body, crying silently. And Draco would allow himself to cry with her. She would rock him as she had that day, trying to reassure him. There was nothing Draco loved more than his Mother, and there was nothing he hated more than his Father.

But, with his Father doling out torture every day and Draco not even close to the standard of wizardry his Father held, Draco could do nothing. He had overheard his Father joking with some fellow Death Eaters since Voldemort’s return, who had asked when they would get a chance to test their own techniques on him, his Father had laughed, and promised his fate with one word: Soon. His Mother finished cleaning the wounds gently, and drew him to her, holding him tightly against her scared body.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, as she had every night, and he forgave her again, as he did every night.

‘I know.’ they held each other tightly, screaming silently at the injustice of the world.

‘Narcissa,’ Lucius called, and his Mother trembled, knowing what was coming. She also knew that one night, her body would finally give in, and she would die, leaving her son at the mercy of the monster she’d married.

‘I love you Draco,’ she whispered, kissing the top of his head with her frail lips. ‘I truly do.’ This night, however, she reached up, and unfastened the locket around her neck, handing it to him. ‘Keep it safe for me Draco, please.’ He nodded almost imperceptibly, and watched his Mother leave. Her screams of pain were heard for miles around, until they suddenly cut off. Draco felt his heart burst in pain as he felt his Mother’s life leave her body.

He was up, and running down the stairs to the dungeons, and saw Lucius Malfoy standing there, shock evident on his face, while Narcissa hung limply in the chains, blood still dripping from the cuts, almost dead.

‘Mother!’ he screamed, and dashed forwards. She smiled slightly at him, and managed to kiss him softly.

‘Draco,’ she whispered, as the life left her. He screamed; a guttural, primal sound that tore up his body and out of his mouth from the depths of his heart. He turned to his Father, hatred burning in his grey eyes.

‘I hate you!’ he shouted, and tore past him into the night, the whole inside him where his Mother had been and now left. He staggered helplessly over to the bench she’d loved, with the roses and lilies and orchids sending their soft, soothing fragrance floating by. He curled up; harsh tears spilling form his eyes. He couldn’t move; could barely breathe. His lower lip trembled and his fists were white as he gripped his frozen limbs in a grip tighter then death.

Something fell to the floor, and he looked at the locket she had handed him, not really sure what it was for a moment or two. He lifted it, and opened it slowly; expecting to see a picture of his Father, yet saw a picture he thought had been lost long ago. He had been twelve when it was taken, and there was an inscription scribbled on it. Straining his eyes, he saw himself embroiled in a book, lines furrowing their way across his forehead in concentration. Father had been gone for a month, and they had been happy. The inscription read: My darling boy, do not loose yourself to him. The other half comprised of a sheet of paper magically shrunk to fit. He removed it, enlarged it, and opened it: it was letter:

My darling Narcissa,
I do not know what I can say to ease your pain. If I thought you would be safe, I would offer you a home here, but I know that Lucius would find you. Do what you can Narcissa, and try to save your son as much as you can. I can do one thing: if you are hurt by any means, and your son is left alone, I shall come to his aid immediately. Together, we can save Draco. We may never see the wonders of Heaven, or feel the joy of happiness, but we can ensure our children will. Be strong Narcissa. Draco needs you to be strong. Remember: even if the darkest of times, when all lights have gone out, there will always be hope in the faces of our children, for their spirits, no matter who pushed, will never crumble if we give them our faith.
Love from Diane Faurd. XXX

He closed the letter, and replaced it in locket, which he fastened around his neck. The hatred he felt was building inside him, and had dried his tears.

‘Don’t worry Mother. You’re free now. you’re safe. Don’t worry about me,’ he whispered to the air around him. ‘I won’t let him beat me.’