Disclaimer: Yup- I don't own anything HP- wish I did, otherwise I wouldn't have tons of student loans hanging over my head. Alas, it belongs to JKR. At any rate, anything else that you haven't seen in a JKR book is mine all mine! Ha ha ha ha.
A/N: This is an AU story. This story takes place in between the 6th and 7th years of Hogwarts. Dumbledore is still headmaster, Fudge is still the Minister, and Voldemort is still trying to take over the wizarding world. Some characters might seem OOC- but honestly, all examples of characters written in fan fiction are OOC- JKR is the only author who can certainly write all of these characters and have them be true to her ideal- the rest of us are simply making guesses.
Draco lay breathless, panting in the grass. As soon as break had started, he had begun a new training regimen. He hoped that by increasing his endurance, he could improve his Quidditch game. Since the start of break, he had run everyday. He was now up to 5 kilometers a day, and hoped to reach 10 before the break was over. If he got his wish, he would be Captain of the Slytherin team. That, he hoped, would glean a bit of praise from his father. But Draco knew that his father would say nothing at all, or tell him that if he didn't win house cup, he would once again place disgrace on the Malfoy family.
He was tired of doing everything his father wanted. He really didn't like being the "Brat Prince" of Hogwarts. So year after year, he continued this stupid ruse- only because it was what his father wanted. He had no friends. Crabbe and Goyle only hung around him because his father had a lot of money and they wanted to look good in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Draco didn't care about the Dark Lord. He didn't want to be in servitude of a maniac, but his father had been drumming the whole mess into him since he was old enough to listen. But nothing would change his father. At least he had his mother to count on. Sometimes, when they were alone, she would actually show him affection. He hungered for those moments, but they were few and far between.
It just wasn't fair. Everyone always spoke of the sacrifices the Boy-Who-Lived made, and spoke about him like a god. He was so lucky in some respects. Draco did not want the fame, but he would love to have that many people care about him. As it was, no one cared whether he lived or died, and that was his father's doing.
Draco sat up, shook himself, and groaned as he brought himself to his feet. At times like this, he sincerely wished that he had not grown so bloody tall. At seventeen, he was now well over 1.8 meters tall ( 6'). He stretched, popped his back and began the trek up to the Manor.
As soon as he hit the door, a house elf bowed.
"Young Master, what can Reeny do for you."
"Run me a bath. Make sure to add the muscle calming potion beside the tub." Draco looked at Reeny pointedly.
"Yes, master."
The pitiful thing ran to do his bidding. Draco hated to be so mean to them, but it was expected of him. If he did not appear to despise them, he would receive a fat lip from dear old dad.
As soon as he reached his room, he could smell that Reeny had drawn his bath correctly. Reeny waited nervously to see what the young Master's reaction would be.
"That will be fine, Reeny." Draco looked at Reeny and gave his a Snape inspired smile. One that was barely there at all, but Reeny could see it.
Reeny stifled a squeak of joy and rushed out of the room. Draco wished that once, just once, his father would get the poor things proper clothes. Deep inside, he knew that would never happen so long as his father was alive.
He threw his nasty clothes to the floor, and gently slid himself into the tub. Almost immediately, he could feel the potion seep into his sore muscles. Silently, he thanked his godfather for teaching him the potion.
After the bath, Draco grabbed his wand, said a drying spell, set his wand back on his nightstand, and turned to his closet. He knew that his father would expect him to dress like a younger version of himself. Sometimes, Draco wished he had the guts to go downstairs wearing muggle clothes, just to see his father's reaction.
He grabbed a simple black shirt and pants. At least his father wouldn't say anything about the color… He finished dressing and went downstairs to the study where his Mother and Father spent their afternoons.
He stiffened when he heard his Mother's scream. A feeling of dread crept up his spine. What was wrong? Was the Dark Lord in the house?
Suddenly, he heard a loud thud followed by more whimpers from his Mother. He had to do something. This had to stop. He was tired of his Mother being treated like a servant. He ran down the stairs and opened the door to the study. His father was standing over his mother. Tall and monstrous, he purposefully towered over her to inspire fear.
"Narcissa, stop your whimpering. It is pointless really. There is nothing that you can do. I own you, and you know better than to annoy me." He slapped her again. Blood already ran from the corners of her mouth and both of her eyes were swelling. It pained Draco to see his mother in such pain, but Draco was frozen by the sight, watching the scene unfold.
"Your son will bear the Dark Mark, and if I hear of your further insolence, today's events will seem like nothing!" Lucius spit at Narcissa, raised his wand, and shouted "Crucio!" Draco's mother convulsed with pain, blood already staining her dress. Draco could not stand it anymore. Without thought, he grabbed the sword from a nearby suit of armor. Before Lucius knew what hit him, Draco swung the sword through the air. Time seemed to stand still. The perfect blade whistled as it cut through space. Draco didn't even flinch when the blade severed his father's head.
Blood spattered the cream colored walls of the study. Lucius Malfoy fell with a splat against the cold marble floor, his head bouncing and finally laying to rest near his Mother's legs. His mother collapsed on the floor in relief as the spell was cut short by her husband's timely demise. She began to sob in great waves.
Draco stood, panting. He slowly lowered the blade, resting the tip against the floor. He watched the rivulets of blood glide down the blade and slightly pool on the floor. He wiped a spatter of blood from his eye and looked at his mother.
"It's going to be alright now."
Narcissa looked at her son in shock. She was scared. He picked up his father's head and threw it into the burning fireplace.
"He can't hurt you anymore."
He threw down the sword and kneeled in front of his mother. She looked into his eyes. When Draco came to the revelation that his mother was frightened of him, his heart broke. He grabbed the sword from the floor and handed it to his mother, hilt first. He bowed his head, letting her choose whether she thought he should live for what he had just done. She sobbed harder.
"Draco." She pushed the sword away and grabbed her boy in her arms.
"It's ok, Mother. If you are this afraid of me, I don't want to live."
She hugged him harder, turned his face toward her. "You are my only son. I did not mean to fear you. It's been a hard day for the both of us."
They sat like that for what seemed like a mere moment, but they were there for much longer than that. Suddenly, a large group of Aurors stormed into the room, holding them at wand point.
The aurors looked around the room at the horror of the corpse of Lucius Malfoy, and his family huddled together covered in blood.
The first auror looked at them. "Who cast the Unforgiveable?"
Draco looked into the eyes of the Auror. "My father, he cast it on my mother. I witnessed the whole thing. I killed my father to save my mother."
The auror looked at Draco, and frowned. "Well, son. We have no choice. You have committed a murder, and until such time as you are found innocent, you will be housed at Azkaban."
Draco stared blankly at the auror. His mother sobbed.
"Please, he's just a little boy. Don't take him to Azkaban!"
The auror looked at Narcissa pityingly. "We have no choice. Since he is young, we will put in a rush request for the trial."
They grabbed Draco and apparated. Narcissa was left, crying.
Once they reached Azkaban, the aurors threw Draco into a cell. The one who had done all the talking at the house looked at Draco condescendingly.
"Well, now you are where you belong, Malfoy. Say hello to your first Dementor!" The aurors laughed as the dementor entered Draco's cell. Before the creature was able to take complete control over Draco's mind, he silently whispered, "It was still worth it."