Birthday Fic From Prompt
Title: This Is How It Ends (Part 1)
Rating: PG( As of now)
Pairings: None,yet.
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Abuse
Summary: Lucius punishes Draco the Muggle way. He doesn't achive the results he hopes.
Word Count: 3,664
This was written for silentauror for her birthday. I promised I would write her three fics using the prompts she gave me. The plot bunny jumped me though. So this is going to be a mulichaptered fic that includes all the prompts. The prompt included in this chapter is... belts. And of course feedback is always appreciated.
It's athappy_berday_sa
Or Chapter 1: Crack!
The cane swung through the air to meet his head. The metal handle struck him just behind his left temple. He crumpled to the floor to be hit again and again on his back and legs. He watched the blood begin to pool on the marble foyer floor. The pain was forcing the edges of his world black. So this was how it ended. He fell at his father’s feet. He died at his father’s hand.
________________________________________________________________________
Draco was playing in the gardens, hiding among the ferns, making little shapes out of mud. His mother was sitting nearby on a lawn chair, watching the little boy fondly as he played.
His little game, whatever it was, amused him greatly, and every few minutes he would jump out and squeak with childish glee. Every once in a while, the six year old would try to taste the dirt and his mother would have to intervene. At one such time, he began to stumblingly explain to her, “ But I’m makin’ mud pies. I’se supposed to eat them.”
Narcissa wheedled the mud away from him saying, “ Wouldn’t you rather have a nice cucumber sandwich, my love? The house elves made them just for you, and you know how they get depressed when you won’t eat their sandwiches. You don’t want them to cry do you? Your morning eggs get all salty when they cry, remember?” He reluctantly gave in to the simple logic and followed her inside to the parlor.
The innocence and fun of the afternoon was not to last. They had barely sat down to tea when the figure of his father darkened the doorframe. “ Draco, come. Now.” Narcissa stopped smiling and nudged Draco out of his chair. The little boy obediently hopped down from the elegant parlor chair and went to his father.
Lucius wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders and squeezing tightly, propelled him out of the room. And up into his study. Draco began to drag his feet.
“ No, I don’t want to go in the study. No!!!” But there was nothing he could do.
Lucius stood in front of him, foreboding; he loomed large over his tiny son. “ Shut up,” he commanded him, “Shut up!” But the little boy refused to stop crying hysterically.
“ Where’s Mummy? I want Mummy. I want to go back. I want to go back. Daddy, please!” And with that Lucius struck Draco across the face. The child’s head snapped viciously to one side and his cries for help became muffled and strangled to turn into pitiful whimpering. But his tears would avail him not. Daddy wanted a little soldier, not a crybaby. He had heard the lecture many times before, but never before had his Daddy hit him.
Lucius straightened up to address his cowering son in cold, dangerous tone. “The house elves told me that my son, my pureblood son was playing in the mud like a filthy little Mudblood, like a Muggle. Do you deny it?”
Draco began to explain, “ I was only makin’ pies. The mud makes good pies.”
“Don’t lie to me! You were undermining everything this family stands for. And therefore, you dishonor me. And I will not be dishonored! If you want to play like a Muggle, then you’ll be treated like one!”
He pulled a parcel wrapped in brown paper out of his robes and began to unwrap in front of the terrified boy. Then, he held up a strip of leather with a buckle at one end, and swung it back and forth in front of the boy.
“ Do you know what this is, hmm?” Draco remained silent, transfixed by with pendulum before him. “ No guesses, well then. It’s called a “belt”. Do you know what it’s used for? Of course you don’t, but you will learn. Oh, yes, you will learn. When Muggle children are bad, they are beaten with this. And so shall you, if you act like a Muggle, you will be treated like one. I suggest that you start acting like the wizard you are, or you and the belt are going to become very well acquainted. Stand against the wall!”
Draco moved to stand where he was told. He was going to be okay. He was getting off with a warning. If he did everything his father asked, he would be fine.
Lucius Malfoy walked up behind his son and asked him how many mud pies he had made.
Draco, anxious to appease his father told him, “ Five, sir.”
With that, Lucius Malfoy raised the belt and brought it down on his son’s back. Crack!
The crack of the belt hitting the boy echoed throughout the house. In the parlor, Narcissa winced at the sound. Four more times the belt made contact. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
At the end, Narcissa fell sobbing into the arms of the house elves. The house was quiet as tomb. The only sound that of the sobbing and wailing of its mistress.
Rating: PG( As of now)
Pairings: None,yet.
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Abuse
Summary: Lucius punishes Draco the Muggle way. He doesn't achive the results he hopes.
Word Count: 3,664
This was written for silentauror for her birthday. I promised I would write her three fics using the prompts she gave me. The plot bunny jumped me though. So this is going to be a mulichaptered fic that includes all the prompts. The prompt included in this chapter is... belts. And of course feedback is always appreciated.
It's athappy_berday_sa
Or Chapter 1: Crack!
The cane swung through the air to meet his head. The metal handle struck him just behind his left temple. He crumpled to the floor to be hit again and again on his back and legs. He watched the blood begin to pool on the marble foyer floor. The pain was forcing the edges of his world black. So this was how it ended. He fell at his father’s feet. He died at his father’s hand.
________________________________________________________________________
Draco was playing in the gardens, hiding among the ferns, making little shapes out of mud. His mother was sitting nearby on a lawn chair, watching the little boy fondly as he played.
His little game, whatever it was, amused him greatly, and every few minutes he would jump out and squeak with childish glee. Every once in a while, the six year old would try to taste the dirt and his mother would have to intervene. At one such time, he began to stumblingly explain to her, “ But I’m makin’ mud pies. I’se supposed to eat them.”
Narcissa wheedled the mud away from him saying, “ Wouldn’t you rather have a nice cucumber sandwich, my love? The house elves made them just for you, and you know how they get depressed when you won’t eat their sandwiches. You don’t want them to cry do you? Your morning eggs get all salty when they cry, remember?” He reluctantly gave in to the simple logic and followed her inside to the parlor.
The innocence and fun of the afternoon was not to last. They had barely sat down to tea when the figure of his father darkened the doorframe. “ Draco, come. Now.” Narcissa stopped smiling and nudged Draco out of his chair. The little boy obediently hopped down from the elegant parlor chair and went to his father.
Lucius wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders and squeezing tightly, propelled him out of the room. And up into his study. Draco began to drag his feet.
“ No, I don’t want to go in the study. No!!!” But there was nothing he could do.
Lucius stood in front of him, foreboding; he loomed large over his tiny son. “ Shut up,” he commanded him, “Shut up!” But the little boy refused to stop crying hysterically.
“ Where’s Mummy? I want Mummy. I want to go back. I want to go back. Daddy, please!” And with that Lucius struck Draco across the face. The child’s head snapped viciously to one side and his cries for help became muffled and strangled to turn into pitiful whimpering. But his tears would avail him not. Daddy wanted a little soldier, not a crybaby. He had heard the lecture many times before, but never before had his Daddy hit him.
Lucius straightened up to address his cowering son in cold, dangerous tone. “The house elves told me that my son, my pureblood son was playing in the mud like a filthy little Mudblood, like a Muggle. Do you deny it?”
Draco began to explain, “ I was only makin’ pies. The mud makes good pies.”
“Don’t lie to me! You were undermining everything this family stands for. And therefore, you dishonor me. And I will not be dishonored! If you want to play like a Muggle, then you’ll be treated like one!”
He pulled a parcel wrapped in brown paper out of his robes and began to unwrap in front of the terrified boy. Then, he held up a strip of leather with a buckle at one end, and swung it back and forth in front of the boy.
“ Do you know what this is, hmm?” Draco remained silent, transfixed by with pendulum before him. “ No guesses, well then. It’s called a “belt”. Do you know what it’s used for? Of course you don’t, but you will learn. Oh, yes, you will learn. When Muggle children are bad, they are beaten with this. And so shall you, if you act like a Muggle, you will be treated like one. I suggest that you start acting like the wizard you are, or you and the belt are going to become very well acquainted. Stand against the wall!”
Draco moved to stand where he was told. He was going to be okay. He was getting off with a warning. If he did everything his father asked, he would be fine.
Lucius Malfoy walked up behind his son and asked him how many mud pies he had made.
Draco, anxious to appease his father told him, “ Five, sir.”
With that, Lucius Malfoy raised the belt and brought it down on his son’s back. Crack!
The crack of the belt hitting the boy echoed throughout the house. In the parlor, Narcissa winced at the sound. Four more times the belt made contact. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
At the end, Narcissa fell sobbing into the arms of the house elves. The house was quiet as tomb. The only sound that of the sobbing and wailing of its mistress.