Sins Of The Father

Draco groaned and dropped down onto the bed. For the life of him he couldn't understand why he was being punished for his father's crimes against the ministry. It wasn't fair and he felt horrible. He longed for the familiarity of his home. As miserable as it had been, it had been the only life he’d ever known.

He ran his fingers through the blond locks sighing heavily. Standing he shrugged out of the robes gingerly and laid them across the chair. He yanked off the tie and unbuttoned the starched white shirt. Kicking off his shoes he slid out of the black slacks and reached for a pair of blue jeans. He'd noticed that Aine was not wearing robes and he felt odd being so formally dressed next to her. He slid into the denim and caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Staring at his reflection he assessed himself. He was a full foot taller than he had been a year before. Luckily for him, Quidditch had filled out the muscles in his chest, arms and abdomen. His skin was pale but there was no help for that. Letting his eyes move back up he caught sight of his own gaze. What he saw there troubled him more than anyone would have imagined.

Sinking back down onto the bed he pulled the pillow into his arms and fought the tears that welled in his eyes. He had never felt so alone and lost before in his life, and that was saying something.

Aine padded down the hallway to summon Draco for dinner. Knocking softly the door swung open. She was surprised to find him asleep on the bed.

She stood in the doorway, debating on whether or not to wake him. As she did she let her eyes roam his form. Long, lean legs encased in faded denim was the first thing that caught her eye. Her gaze shifted to the sculpted arms clutching the pillow to his chest. Her mouth went dry and she instinctively licked her lips as she took several steps into the room. Moving to the end of the bed she reached for the throw blanket that lay there. Spreading it over him she sucked in a breath when she saw his back. Red, angry welts crisscrossed the pale skin, varying in length and depth. Her eyes traveled the two foot long course of the worst of the injuries. She would have sworn someone had deliberately carved the wound that snaked it’s way across the back of Draco Malfoy from one shoulder towards the opposite hip. She'd heard some of what happened, of course, but hearing it and seeing the evidence of it were two very different things. She was willing to bet there were many more similar marks marring his flesh that she couldn’t see.

Draco could feel her eyes on him, and he pretended to be asleep. He didn't want to see the disgust he was sure he would find in her eyes.

She felt the tears well in her eyes. Nobody should have to endure what Draco had. Although he had a reputation for being a pain in the ass, he didn't deserve to be punished for something his father had done. She knew that when push had come to shove, even the threat of personal violence had not pushed him over the edge of dark magic. She let the blanket fall gently across the broad shoulders and backed out of the room as quietly as she could.

The room was dark as Aine sat in the window seat, staring out at the darkened sky. The moon was half full and reflected off the fountain situated on the patio of the Anderson home. She had been thinking of the few details her father had provided her with concerning Draco’s sudden departure from England. It still didn’t make sense to her. Growing up in a world where the innocent were just that, she couldn’t fathom the violence imparted on a young man who’s only real crime was the unfortunate circumstance of his birth.

When the decision was made to send the young wizard to America, Aine had been charged with his protection and well being. It was not an assignment she had welcomed, but it was hers none the less and she had vowed to do everything she could to heal the young man. Her instincts told her his psyche needed far more healing than his body.

Her musings were interrupted by a covert cough. Looking up she met Draco’s eyes. “Did you sleep well?” she asked quietly.

Draco nodded “I did, thank you. I was more tired than I thought.”

“Jet lag will do that to you. Would you like something to eat?” she asked moving to her feet.

“I would love something. I’m starving,” he admitted.

Aine made her way to the kitchen where Emma had left dinner. It was a simple roast with vegetables and the simmering in the crock pot had made the meat even more tender. She dished it onto a plate and turned around to find he had followed her. "Soda?" she asked sitting the plate on the bar as he situated himself on a stool.

"Thank you Aine."

"No problem Malfoy," she said as she poured two glasses. After pushing his towards him she leaned against the counter and quietly watched him as he ate.

He looked up at her when he finished. "So Aine, your job is what? To entertain me? To keep me company? To keep me out of trouble?"

Aine shrugged he shoulders "All of that and more," she murmured.

Draco cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

"My job is to help you," she admitted.

"You can't help me Aine... don't you know there is no help for Lucius Malfoy's son? Like father like son," he murmured repeating the words his captors had uttered over and over to him.

"You don't have to accept that fate Draco," she murmured gently. "You can change it if you want to."

Draco swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Believe me if I thought that was true I would...but I can't, his blood runs through my veins like a poison...You'd do well to distance yourself from me Aine," he whispered as the shame of who, of what he was burned in him.

Aine moved to his side, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't Aine...You can't fix what has been done," he whispered.

"Yes I can Draco," she murmured. "My powers are strongest in this area."

He heard his name leave her lips and felt something inside him stir. "You may be able to heal their appearance and even make them disappear...but they will remain all the same," he said his hand covering hers.

She felt the tears slid down her cheeks at the resignation in his voice. "Please Draco...let me help you." She understood pain and loneliness. Though no one had ever intentionally inflicted it upon her as they had Draco Malfoy she had felt it just the same. Aine reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes as she felt something inside of her soften towards him. He caught her hand in his, opening his eyes he met her turquoise gaze. "You have to believe Draco...at least let me heal these wounds. The pain will lessen," she whispered pulling her hand from his and resting it against his back. She had noticed the way he moved, carefully as if each movement was a task.

Draco bit back a groan as he felt her fingers brush against the damaged skin of his back. Her touch was gentle and tender. He’d never had anyone touch him with such gentleness. Not even his mother when he’d been a small child. He remembered falling as a child and injuring himself. His mother instead of comforting him had sneered. “Grow up Draco, you are a Malfoy and Malfoy’s don’t cry.” He shook his head trying to clear it of the memories. "No Aine," he hissed moving abruptly away from her.

Aine let her hand fall to her side. "Very well," she muttered to his retreating back. She knew this wasn't going to be easy. Draco Malfoy was on a crash course with self destruction and she was the only roadblock he was likely to encounter.