Beautiful World ~ 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀

Chapter 26

A Malfoy Does Not Kiss Other Boys In Public. It repeated in his memory, again and again, until, for the rest of his life, even when Draco was weak and tired and sore all over, he would still be able to mumble those words, over and over again.

His father had never laid a hand on him until he had gotten him home from London that day, after watching him kiss Harry. He had never beaten him nor even touched him affectionately. Had never slapped him or held him, certainly had never hurt him or tidied his hair. But that summer, everything was to change for Draco, and he found it only fitting that the change started at home.

His mother cried, cried harder than Draco could ever remember her having cried before. Because who knew how many friends of theirs had been on that platform that day, had watched Draco shove his tongue into the mouth of the Boy Who Lived? They'd never be invited out to polite society again! No one would ever want to be seen with them because their son had Kissed Another Boy In Public.

The 'in public' part was important, Draco knew, because a Malfoy could do whatever he pleased in privacy, and he knew for a fact that his father had kissed other boys before, and probably still did today. He knew because Narcissa still fumed over it, and one night over dinner, when she'd been angry, she had come right out and said it.

Draco had only been eight, but he remembered.

In the privacy of his bedroom, Lucius had replied coldly, a Malfoy could do whatever he liked.

It wasn't his bedroom, Narcissa had replied. It was theirs.

And that was when they got separate bedrooms.

That was the last time he'd seen his father touch anyone, actually. When his mother had grabbed Lucius' arm pleadingly and he had reached up, taken her hand, and dropped it.

The last time he touched anyone, that is, until he got Draco home from the train station and backhanded him across the face.

"A Malfoy Does Not Kiss Other Boys In Public," he'd said, almost politely, as Draco stared at him in shock.

He'd always feared his father, and in that moment, the fear changed to something else, something that tasted less like bile in his throat and more like ice in his body. A cold sort of hatred.

He was grounded to his room indefinitely, locked in, his wand taken away. The only sounds were his mother's weeping whenever she happened to pass by his door, and the rain on the window if ever it happened to rain.

His mother did not come to visit him, his father had claimed that he was to use the time in his room to think things over, and the house elves were cautioned not to speak to him when they brought his food.

In truth, it was not the worst of punishments. It was the slap that stung, even after the swelling on his lip faded.

He could see the formal gardens through his window, and it only served to remind him of being locked in his room as a child. He remembered that summer, those two weeks after first year, of being locked here, and how he had panicked and paced and ranted about how unfair it was. Now, he was content to sit on his bed and stare out the window and wait.

Content, that was, until the first week slipped by and still, his father had not come to let him out.

Harry needed him, he had to get to Harry. The thought consumed him and Draco started pacing his room, screaming for his father, screaming in rage until his voice was gone, but his father never came. He tried to break through the door, but it was locked tight. He lived too high up to jump from the window.

But he had to get to Harry.

Another week went by, and then another. It was then that the house elf walked in and caught Draco just as he smashed his fist through the window.

His arm was dripping blood and Draco tried to get out the window before the elf could react. It was no use and he was jerked back into the room.

His father was summoned, and Draco laughed a little hysterically. All it took to get an audience with his father was an attempt at smashing his way through the window.

He was moved then, to a room inside the house without windows. It was a smaller room, used for guests of lesser status. The slashes on his wrist were healed.

His father left him there for three days and then came back. It was July twenty-eighth.

"Have you come to realize the error of your ways?" Lucius asked, and Draco spat on the floor at his feet.

Lucius ordered then that he be lashed with a belt and that perhaps this would teach him proper respect for his father and what it was to be a Malfoy. Draco was incredulous at this, and he laughed. Belted? A Malfoy? It had never happened before and he was sure his father wouldn't dare make him be the first Malfoy it happened to. He was wrong.

His father didn't belt him himself, of course, but had a house elf do it. The poor creature sobbed all the while, smashing the belt into Draco's naked back.

Draco... Draco didn't make a sound. He lay on his stomach on his bed and let the belt cut into the skin on his back and he did not flinch, did not cry, did nothing. He thought of Harry waiting for him, Harry kissing him, Harry smiling at him, and he smiled while the house elf belted him.

When it was over, the elf carefully set the belt down, glanced at Draco meaningfully, and walked out, leaving the door open a crack.

Freedom, then. He heard a distant howling as the house elf began slamming his leg in an oven in punishment for that.

He walked gingerly, his back torn and aching. He pondered where to go. The library? He had to check the books, there had to be something, someway to help...

But Harry was waiting.

Harry, Harry, oh god, what should I do?

He went instead to Lucius' study and tore the top drawer open. There a ring there, a ring he recognized. It was a portkey that would bring him anywhere he wanted to go, his father used it whenever he and Draco had to go anywhere together. He found his wand there as well and took that too, then going to his bedroom and changing into something clean. He took the back servant steps down to the kitchen and slipping out the back door. After all, his father would never think to search for him in the servant's domain. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys neither sneaked out through the servant's entrance, nor Kissed Another Boy In Public.

He walked a while, until he was out of sight of the house, and then Draco dug through his pocket, pulling out the ring.

He slipped it on his finger and disappeared a moment later.