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Mar 16, 2005 00:53

He scratched at his helmet of white hair that his Father had combed back impeccably and glanced out from his hiding spot behind the statue at the bottom of the stairs.

It was loud and crowded in Malfoy Manor. Elegant music played in the foyer and hundreds of voices were chatting and laughing with eachother so that they all blurred into a series of rapid collectively incoherent syllables. He saw a clearing between the ankles of the dancing guests, leading up to his Father and Aunt Bellatrix across the way. His large, round eyes glanced about as he grinned devilishly.

In a flash, he was running through the sea of knees; successfully tripping two dancing couples and knocking into one particularly large, unbalanced man who fell right over onto his bum, cursing all the way down.

He stopped where he was, pointing and laughing out loud at the man with no shame whatsoever. Lucius Malfoy rushed over immediately, his face nothing less than shocked and apologetic and quickly helped the man to his feet. He turned.

You! Come here, this instant!

As he advanced upon the little boy, Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered up and laid a hand to Lucius's shoulder, a glass with a dark purple liquid sloshing about in the other.

Lucius! she slurred, obviously smashed, leave the boy alone and come back over to the MacDougals- Charlie hasn't even finished his story yet and it's getting so good! she threw her head back and laughed, shrill and high.

Lucius took a deep breath and gave a stern look, I'll deal with you later.

As he walked away, Bellatrix leaned down to the little boy who's grin had long faded.

Cheer up, Drakkie, smiling loose and openly, she sloppily kissed him-leaving a lipstick print the colour of the drink in her goblet on his milkwhite forehead and continued, He's all bark, as they say.

She stood straight, setting her balance right, and glanced down to him.

Best to stay out of trouble either way though, hm? she winked and put her nails through his nair, playfully mussing it before turning and following his Father. He giggled until he saw his reflection in a serving tray minutes later; when he sneered adorably and rubbed at the purple spot on his face, smearing it and making it worse.

He stayed under a table for the most of the party, watching feet through the space between the tablecloth and the floor, occasionally lifting said cloth to hook his arm up around the edge of the table to poke his hand around the trays of food over him, pulling down triangular sandwiches and the like. After he was full and content, he came out from under the table and started milling about, saying hello to the young girls whose parents had forced them to come, and at times, the young boys. When he'd greeted every child there, he decided to find his Aunt, and set out looking for her.

He faintly heard her familiar shrill laughter coming from a back door leading outside. He set his small shoulders back and walked towards the sound proudly. This demeanor fell suddenly into silent awe at the sight of his aunt, his Father, his mother, and the parents of some of his playmates all surrounding a man he'd never seen before who was bound and gagged, though very much conscious. They were all laughing still, smiling and joking. He quickly noted the fear in the eyes of the stranger and hid behind the wall, just peeking at them over the edge.

The man who was rather round about the middle- the one he'd tipped over from earlier- pointed his wand and hit the man with a spell that had him screaming over his gag; biting down on the material, his cheeks shiny with tears.

The group burst into a collective drunk laughter as the little boy watched with wide eyes. His fingers curled around the doorframe and he leaned closer, his porcelain hand gripping the dark wood.

A few more shots of sparks at the stranger from barely directed wands. More laughter. More bright-white toothy grins and drinking. No one saw him watching, there. No one noticed him at all.

Not until they heard a loud cry pierce the bound man's screams. This sound was higher; made by the open mouth of a little boy who clutched his finger to his stomach in pain.

That highpitched sound instantly dropped a few octaves as Draco awoke. A cold sweat prickled into gooseflesh all down the back of his neck and his arms, the bumps molesting the small hair roots. Only after he'd settled his breathing did he let go of his left index finger; if he'd wanted to, he could still feel the small white scar there.

Sheley MacDougal's last spell had missed and skidded across his finger as it zoomed through the door.

Bellatrix started towards him, her eyebrows knitted with concern but Lucius held her back.

That's enough from you tonight, Draco. Go to your room.

He slammed the door closed.

Smooth moonlight draped itself over his bed. It took him a good few minutes to realize why he had never noticed it before: it had never been there before to look at, seeing as his curtains kept out most light. But apparently in his sleep, he'd ripped them down.
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