Omega

Chapter 30

Warning: graphic descriptions of attempted rape, implied sexual abuse of minors, gore and murder, implied physical and emotional abuse.

Draco greatly disliked the winter.

The manor was large, that meant it got drafty a lot. His ancestors cared more about opulence than functionality, and his grandfather insisted the manor be kept the way it was. He was a traditional man, the old bastard, Draco hated him. Despite having one foot in the grave already, he still had a considerable high status, something he reaffirmed by throwing galas then and again.

Draco hated them. The crisp shirt and tie he wore felt like a chain around his neck. His hair was slicked back tight and the shoes while expensive were becoming quite uncomfortable to walk in. He felt like a monkey in a zoo. The way the older men and women surrounded him and flocked him, dealing out fake compliments, pinching and prodding, looking for a reaction. Draco wanted to snap at them. He wanted to stomp his foot and storm out of the room screaming at the top of his lungs. He felt like a carcass circled by vultures. His face remained a perfect mask though, he learned that from his mother.

"Socialites are like scorpions Draco," she would say, "if there is the slightest opening they will sting with no hesitation."

His mother was a sight to behold at these things. Her blonde hair was pinned up showing off her slender neck adorned with delicate, expensive jewelry. The long, form-fitting blue dress she wore swished around her softly as she moved. Her pink-lipped smile remained kind and welcoming, her glittering blue eyes highlighted with silver eye shadow remained demure.

Why, if you didn't know her personally, Narcissa would seem like a sweet, harmless woman, a trophy wife who spent her days spending her husband's fortune in an ivory palace.

The smarter ones knew better. Narcissa was as ruthless as her husband. Only she hid her teeth behind kind smiles and concealed her barbs with soft gestures.

Lucius Malfoy bothered with no such frivolities.

His father has always been a cold man. Draco did not really have any loving memories with his father. Lucius was detached, a man he only saw every now and then. He was far too occupied with the family business, taking over the reigns Abraxas left behind to bother with being an actual father to the child he sired.

Draco associated Lucius with impossible expectations. Lucius was the dark shadow lurking behind him during his extra lessons. Lucius was the stern face on the other end of the large table at dinner. Lucius was the voice in his head that demanded perfection from him at all times.

Draco feared his father, not because he punished him, but because he could never impress him.

Even now standing at his side, his father straight-backed and the picture of nobility. Draco felt cold and utterly alone.

He wanted to leave.

Hence why as soon as he saw the slight window, he escaped.

He sat on the bench overlooking the lake. The ten year old drew his fingers into his coat to fight the biting cold. The lake was practically frozen over, he knew from personal experience that the ice was thinner in certain places and you could still fall in. The snow fell lightly around Draco as he looked longingly at the tall fence that circled the property. He longed to escape this extravagant cage and fly as far as he could, until his wings got tired and he crashed into the earth.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the servants started scouring the grounds looking for him. They would find him, Dobby would know where to find him. The manservant his parents assigned to watch over him was a skittish middle-aged man but he was incredibly kind. Dobby often got punished for indulging Draco's whims even if he tried to hide the lashes he received from Draco, the child knew better.