Title: Splinter

Summary: Based extremely (and I mean extremely) loosely on 'The Snow Queen'. This will eventually be a Dramione story, so if you don't like to sail the SS Leather and Libraries please look away now.

Rating: R (don't read if you are not allowed, though the R rated parts won't be for a couple of chapters yet)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine and I'm making no profit, some of the plot belongs to Hans Christian Anderson too.

A/N: Please be gentle this is my first straight Harry Potter fanfic, but I would like to know what you all think.

Prologue: The Day of the Roses

Malfoy's always prided their family on what set them apart from everyone else. There are some things, however, that are constant across all groups of people, no matter how original they deem themselves to be. Every creed has their traditions, their beliefs and their rites of passage. Malfoy's were no different, in that they held these rites to be the very foundations of their place in the wizarding world. Generations bled into new generations, the same discourse pumping eternally through their lineage. And to a Malfoy, lineage is everything.

The first great tradition came upon their birth and was simply called the blessing ceremony. The most respected members of their family along with their most important allies attended it, of course. Each would present a rose petal, pressed with a single drop of blood from their family line and they would utter a single blessing for the future of the next Malfoy heir. Malfoy's only ever had one child and to the world beyond their manor, that was indeed the greatest blessing that could ever come from such a ceremony. The petals were then placed inside a pale green pillowcase that the new child would sleep upon for the rest of his life.

Whether or not these blessings had any magical impact on the reality of Malfoy lives and their destinies I cannot say, only that the tradition itself is such a strong focal point of their beliefs.

Draco Malfoy was no different from any other Malfoy. He was blessed with unquenchable ambition, amorous good looks, the sharpest of slytherin cunning, the wealth of his forebears, the resourcefulness of his grandfather, the eloquence of his father, a very distinguishing taste and a proclivity for the excitement of dark magic. These were all gifts that he should pride himself on, but it is context that makes a child into a man and blessings can often be the disguise of curses.

The most important rite of passage for a Malfoy occurs on their tenth birthday. It is the cusp of childhood and adolescence, when the formal wizarding educational system is about to be handed the power to teach children and alter the limited knowledge their parents have given them beforehand. It should be acknowledged that Malfoy's never take risks when their heritage is on the line, they would never let the world cloud the importance of the family and their beliefs.

And so it was, six years ago to this day that Draco Malfoy faced the most powerful rite of passage he would ever encounter...

The box moved again and two pale, tiny hands baulked. His wide eyes were almost comic in their fear but his mother had learned a long time ago how to repress a laugh at the expense of Malfoy men.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

She made no mention of fear, as she surveyed her nails. Pretending she hadn't noticed how he was shaking as the box jumped from side to side in front of him. His little jaw set into a scowl so like his fathers that Narcissa smiled at him in encouragement.

"This isn't a broomstick!" Draco's scowl deepened. It was the last present and he had still not seen the new Nimbus that his father had promised him. He tore the final bow off the box and it suddenly stopped rattling as if it knew what Draco was about to do next. Carefully he reached forward, even as his body slid backwards – he was preparing himself to run and Narcissa found it absolutely endearing. He flipped the lid with his fingers and lurched backwards. It wasn't fast enough.

A creature sprung from inside the box as soon as it had the chance. Draco yelped as it landed on his chest pushing him backwards. Immediately it pounced higher and Draco tensed as the creature started to...lick...him.

"Wha-oh! Mother! It's a crup!" Draco smiled at the same time he grimaced. He was lying on his back while this creature (that somewhat resembled a small jack-russel terrier) was enthusiastically attacking his lips with its rough tongue. He was giggling madly but pulling it away simultaneously since it's breath was absolutely foul.

"Your father brought him home last night."

"He has a Devil's tail!" Draco watched the tail flicking backwards and forwards with the crup's excitement, it's tail did indeed have a forked end.

"Devil's tail indeed." Narcissa sniffed, from her straight spined position on a balcony chair. Where he got such nonsense...sometimes he talked like a house elf. Delicately she sliced another piece of veal from her plate and nibbled. Her eyes were fixed on her child complacently. "It will need to be removed of course, there are new regulations at the ministry..." Draco was too busy giggling to pay her any attention as she continued, "Apparently it resembles some muggle creature and they don't want to confuse the poor neanderthals...especially since muggles aren't exactly well- liked by crups. This new Minister is more interested in muggle concerns than wizarding ones." At this comment Draco finally looked up at her.

"What a stupid law! Does Father know about that?" Draco scrunched his face up. "Stupid muggles...I like his tail...at least they won't see you coming now, will they? We'll show them Sir-Licks-a-Lot." Draco looked up at her excitedly for approval only to find her raising her eyebrow in a very disapproving manner. "Only joking...Nimbus it is." Narcissa smiled softly as she sipped at her tea.

"Where is father?? He hasn't even seen Nimbus yet!"

"Your father bought him, Draco."

"So?" Draco frowned and stood up impatiently, Nimbus was jumping up and down pawing his legs in excitement. It was still very small, it's excited bark more of a squeak and its body mass no larger than the expanse of Narcissa's very well manicured hand.

"You like him, then?"

"He's all right." Draco said, still looking back at the Manor for some sign of Lucius Malfoy.

"Better than a broomstick?"

Draco scowled. "I named him Nimbus, didn't I?" Touché.

"Ah. There you are, Draco." A voice spoke from just behind Narcissa. Narcissa stiffened and very slowly placed her teacup back on its saucer. A warm hand slid over her shoulder without gripping it affectionately. She turned her face toward his hand, kissing the Malfoy insignia on his ring. His fingers caressed her cheek for a moment before he pulled away. When she looked up into his face he was signalling Draco back up the stairs of the balcony, towards the al fresco breakfast that Narcissa had especially ordered for Draco's birthday. Lucius lowered himself into the chair opposite his wife and immediately picked up a copy of The Daily Prophet.

Draco was already running up the stairs. Nimbus looked forlornly at the first step, and it took him a rather longer time to clamber up behind his even more excitable master. His tiny legs kicked and struggled against the slippery stone, but Draco paid him no mind.

"Father! Did you see my Crup? Did you? He's wicked!"

"Don't use such vulgar colloquialisms Draco, really." Lucius chided with a turn of the newspaper.

Draco only paused for a moment, contemplating what his father meant before he shook his mop of unruly blonde hair and said, "I named him Nimbus because he's fast and he likes to yap a lot."

"I didn't realise broomsticks were in the habit of talking...despite the constant yammer of their potential owners." Lucius smirked and Draco's face shone with a youthful grin that stretched across his entire face.

Draco threw himself into the seat beside his father continuing his quest for attention. "Do you think we can go to a muggle village today and see if it's true? That crups can sense muggles I mean."

"Aren't you already busy, Draco?" The boy frowned up at his father, eyes fixing themselves on the table as he tried to remember. "Come, come...don't tell me you forgot. That is completely unacceptable, Draco. Maybe you really aren't ready after all. That is...rather disappointing."

"Yes..." Narcissa stated, suddenly perking up. "You're right, my dear. Draco should have a couple more years to mature first. A wise decision, my love." She said and smiled across the table. Lucius didn't spare her a glance, but his fingers tightened their hold on the newspaper he was reading.

"No! I remember! I remember, I do! I'm not too young, mother, how could you say that?! I'm not a child!" Draco was almost in tears, his father wasn't even looking at him and his mother, his mother who he loved so dearly was calling him immature. He was a Malfoy, they should be proud of him, they would be, how could they tell him to wait a couple of years? Why were they being so cruel?

Nimbus finally struggled up the last step and slowly walked over to his Master's chair, now very much out of breath. It yapped lightly, pawing at Draco's seat, but Draco pushed its tiny head away, staring up at his father with extremely worried eyes.

"Go away you stupid Crup!" He hissed when it continued to yap. The crup pulled back several paces but continued to stare up at Draco, its tiny head crooked to the side in confusion at this new tone.

"Father, I remember—I'm ten, it's my Legacy Day, you were going to take me to see grandmother, I remember, I do. You're right we can take Nimbus to town another day." He said with evident desperation.

Lucius flicked his eyes up to his wife and grinned over the newspaper. Narcissa clenched her hands on the edge of the table. Of course. Mind games, she should have realised sooner. She'd said exactly what he had wanted her to say and there was no way of taking her foolish words back. Draco had the pride of his father, she should have known.

"I don't know..." Lucius said slowly as he folded his newspaper and placed it to the side. He looked at Draco with intensity, his eyes running up and down the boys flushed cheeks in deep consideration. Draco brushed at the tears on his face furiously and sat up straighter, never looking away from his father's stoic gaze. "This isn't a game, Draco. How do I know you can handle it without crying for your mother? Why...even she seems to think I should give you more time." Lucius looked across the table at his wife and Draco followed his gaze, glaring at his mother. One stare was taunting her, begging her to say something and help her husband's cause just a little bit more. The other look was accusing her, full of hurt and anger, how could she make him look like a fool in front of his father? He was no mummy's boy! Narcissa pressed her lips together.

"She's wrong!" Draco snapped.

"Don't speak about your mother like that Draco, we all make our...mistakes."

"Indeed." Narcissa spoke crisply.

"Choices Draco, decisions. The smallest choice can be important, for instance: how can I know you are ready for this?" Draco was fidgeting in his seat, as Lucius spoke languorously, his diamond eyes never leaving the flushed face of his wife. "Your mother may be right. I watched you through the window; you couldn't even bear to face a crup! As if you were under the impression that you, a Malfoy, could be anything less than pureblooded. That is an insult to your family name. How could I call you an adult if you're so disrespectful?" Lucius shook his head in feigned sadness.

"I did open it! I did! I am proud to be a Malfoy! I'm not scared, father! Look-look!" Draco bent down and scooped Nimbus off the ground, holding the crup close to him. It proceeded to lick his damp cheeks and neck. Lucius curled his lip.

"Do show some proper table etiquette before I give up on you completely!" Draco's shoulders slumped and he released Nimbus, brushing the overly affectionate crup away from him until it hit the floor beside his chair with an ungraceful thump. Narcissa closed her eyes when the creature let out a distinct yelp and backed away from his master. Draco furiously brushed his cheeks to get rid of the last tears.

"Good boy." His father said with a slight grin. "I believe in giving second chances. Make no mistake, Draco, I'm not given to granting more than two. I will not have a coward as a son, nor a failure – is that clear?"

"Yes, father."

"You have...satisfactorily...proven yourself to me Draco, but no more than satisfactorily. I hope to see an improvement in you after today. Do you understand?" Draco nodded, holding his chin high. Lucius smiled at him without reservation and finally reached across the distance between them to ruffle his son's hair. "Good, because we're still going today. I don't think I could be cruel enough to deny you this honour." Draco grinned at him, swinging his feet beneath the table.

Narcissa was by this time staring at her own hands, wanting to throttle her son for being so young and naïve, wanting to stab Lucius with her fork for being so manipulative. Those were the two traits that she usually loved about her men. Not now though. She couldn't appreciate them now. The pattern was clear: degrade until he desires to prove himself and then give him the smallest of rewarding compliments so he'll continue to chase you for more. So simple and so effectively cruel.

"Narcissa, darling, please get our son ready while I finish breakfast, will you?" Lucius looked up at his wife with a charming smile, his hand resting on Draco's shoulder. Narcissa's eyes flicked between the two males in her life. One who just couldn't resist making it harder for her, the other had the most heart wrenchingly ignorant smile on his face. The young always want to grow old so fast. Too fast.

"With pleasure..." Narcissa said, but her lips barely moved apart.

She stood from her seat and strode through the balcony doors and into the main foyer. She could hear Draco running after her, but her legs were much longer, her steps wider apart and brisker so that he didn't catch her for a while. She led him to his own room, without looking backwards. Indeed, part of her hoped that the overwhelmingly playful side of his nature would choose this moment to emerge. Draco liked to hide from her whenever she was going to take him somewhere. On his best friend, Vincent's seventh birthday he had vanished for four hours, until she'd almost owled Auror Headquarters because she was afraid he'd been kidnapped. In reality, he'd just been hiding behind the Malfoy family tapestry, giggling to himself about all the mischief he was making. He was playful and annoying at times, indeed he was a little agitating for her delicately blueblood nerves – but at times that was also an advantage. It consumed time. Time! So precious that you didn't realise it was passing, until you ran out of it.

When she reached his room she opened the glass doors to his balcony and stood there, framed between two whipping green curtains. It took him all of three seconds to burst into the room behind her, breathing heavily. Her eyes closed in agony, he would never hide from his father. There was no playfulness in their relationship. There was the idol and his worshipper. Draco loved Lucius too dearly and blindly. He had never wanted to irk his father for a single day of his life. How could she fault Draco for that? She had once been the same.

She walked out onto the balcony, listening to Draco whine about what she had said, how embarrassing it was and...why couldn't he find his favourite robes? Narcissa looked down at the roses she'd had specifically planted beneath the railing of his balcony. Red, the darkest red there was. Almost black. She'd got them for his birthday, two years ago – they were everblooms and when it rained they hummed. Draco was scared of thunderstorms, they comforted him. He'd chosen the colour because it was so very close to black. There are no black roses she'd told him and he'd huffily said, 'they'll do.'

"Draco, come here..."

He walked over, holding his head high even though he was still about two feet shorter than she was. She fixed his hair and amended his robes, just like his favourites (which were unavailable since he had worn them overzealously the day before his birthday). He was so handsome, just like his father. She made sure his hair was slicked back in the style his father liked best and Draco grinned at her. When his hair was off his face, his eyes stood out that much more. Such a pale blue, not even blue, more of a grey, they were almost transparent. Narcissa looked away, they were beautiful eyes – oh yes – but when she was sad and she stared into them too long she started to think of the dead. She wasn't sure why, it was probably just because she was cynical now, because she'd seen death, because she was scared that everything she loved would shrivel up and die just because of the world's spite. She knew pale eyes lose their pigmentation fast and she'd always wondered what would happen to such a delicately pale blue iris when his life was over. Would it only take moments for the shade to disappear completely, like his very soul had dissolved?

She breathed in, covering the heavy sigh with her hand and trying to make sure her son didn't notice. She was being melodramatic and she hated it.

"I want you to take this with you." She said and plucked a flower from the rose bed. "it looks like rain, it will comfort you." She said and then tried to attach it to the dark lapel crossing over his elegant robes. Draco jumped backwards.

"No! Father will see it, what will he think?"

"That you're a charming gentleman. How could he think any less?" Narcissa tilted his chin up. Draco stubbornly clamped his jaw shut, and tightened his lips. She glared at him, then shoved the flower into his lapels, adjusting the petals nicely against the soft material of his robes. "Very dashing." She said, with a wink. Draco smiled crookedly at her and rolled his eyes.

"I'm ready then, let's go."

"No, Draco. I'm not coming with you."

He frowned, but said nothing. No matter what he claimed, she was the one he cried to; if he was scared he liked to know she was around because she would hold him. His father drove his ambition, his desire to be better, but his mother let him know that it he failed it was ok. A very small part of Draco believed he was doomed to failure, it was that part of him that liked to know she would be there. His heart started to race a little louder, he looked into her eyes, then looked away and turned his back on her. He would never let her know he needed her.

"I wanted to tell you something before you leave. I want you to always remember it. Do you promise me?"

He shrugged, turning back to her with pronounced impatience.

She walked towards him and for the first time in his life, he saw her kneel, kneel down on the ground in a very undignified manner so that she could embrace him. She was careful not to crush the rose petals, as she smoothed the baby-soft skin still present on his neck. She pulled back and touched the rose softly. He followed the movement and frowned at her. He hated hugs that weren't necessary for his own self-esteem. It all became very weak and pathetic, Draco didn't like that at all.

"This flower is an immortal rose, Draco, do you know what that means?"

"Of course!" He snapped.

"Yes, you are a very smart boy." She clutched his shoulders. "It is only immortal so long as it stays in the ground, so long as it remains in the earth..." She moved a little to the side and gestured with her hand back to his balcony. Draco frowned, what was she talking about? "If you take it away from that...dress it up, make it something it isn't..." She touched the flower on his robes, "it cannot survive, no matter what spell you put on it." That was hardly uplifting, since she'd just said the doomed rose attached to his chest was meant to make him feel better. Draco scowled and tried to pull it free. "No. Do you know how my first magic came to be? My sister ruined my favourite part of the garden at my old home, where the gardenias grew. Somehow, I made all the flowers go back to their beds, start growing again. Just because I didn't want them to die. Flowers are beautiful, yes, but only when they're in the ground. Outside, they shrivel, become brown and limp. Dead. Nothing dead is ever beautiful, Draco, nothing! You'll come home tonight and we'll replant your rose together. I'll show you how. Promise me."

There was a strange urgent look in her eyes. Draco wasn't sure if she was completely sane, but he was irritated with this stupid conversation so he shrugged and muttered, "Sure."

Downstairs she watched Draco disappear into the Malfoy fireplace in a blaze of green flames. Lucius was standing beside her. She didn't look across at him though she could feel the heat of his gaze.

"Never try to undermine me again, Narcissa. Being my wife, doesn't make you a real Malfoy. You do not understand, but perhaps you will learn to appreciate the delicacy of our traditions once you have seen everything our son will experience, every grand thing that will happen to him because of these experiences." Lucius was smiling proudly.

"I don't want him to suffer, that is all."

"Suffer? Don't speak such rubbish, woman. There is no suffering, there is no pain – I experienced it myself, I should know! You will not spoil my son's future, through your own failure to understand why this is necessary." Lucius breezed away from her in an elegant fury, snatching floo powder from where she clutched the satchel limply in her hand. He made sure to spill some of the granules up into the air so Narcissa had to turn her face away. Then he was gone in a green inferno, the air around her still sparking with his disdain.

She was just as noble as her husband and she'd never partaken in anything as completely ridiculous as this tradition was. Perhaps she was overreacting, but if anyone in the ministry found out about these traditions she knew they'd see it rather differently to Lucius Malfoy. Then again, if a crup could have part of its body severed by law, how could the world ever mourn the heart of a Malfoy? They didn't even know it could exist.

TBC

A/N The idea for Draco's crup is not mine - it's actually found in J.K Rowling's book 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them'.