Lost Image | dramione

45 | the nightmare

Draco was at a party. The details were a little fuzzy, but he was fairly certain it was a birthday party. A party for him.

When he was young, he never had birthday parties with only children. Frankly, there weren't enough children alive in the UK that his parents would allow him to associate with, but that was beside the point. Parties, even birthday parties, were an opportunity for his parents to network, show off their wealth, and discuss his future with like-minded wizards and witches. And that's exactly the kind of party this was.

He was standing by the wall with Pansy and a couple of other kids that had been flooed in from France. He never learned their names- they were a few years older than him, and though their parents had tried to urge them to "play with the Malfoy heir," they seemed incredibly bored.

Adults were standing around talking and laughing fakely, and to Draco they suddenly seemed very, very tall. He was, afterall, only seven years old. Yes, he remembered now. This was his 7th birthday party. Everything around him seemed so enormous- the adults, the tables, the cake... well, the cake was enormous, he remembered. Too much cake for the relatively small party of pure-bloods.

All to show everyone how important he was. He was Draco Malfoy. He was an heir to a proud and untainted line.

The undercurrent of chatter and house elves pouring drinks and children pretending to have fun was suddenly cut silent. Completely, absolutely silent. It wasn't that everything froze... no, in fact, everyone in the room was suddenly turning around. They were all staring expectantly towards the door in the eerie quiet of the ballroom.

Now, in reality, the front door and the ballroom are very far apart. And yet, there it was, looming menacingly against the far wall of the room, and for some reason Draco couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Thwack. Thwack. Thwack."

The sound wasn't like a knocking. It was a strange squelching banging noise, a sound he couldn't quite place. One minute, everyone in the room was staring at the door, listening to that sound in stony silence... and then, just as suddenly, the party resumed.

Draco felt shaken, though he couldn't place why. There was something terrible behind that door, he knew. Something he didn't want to see.

"Ugh. This is so boring. Mother says I can spend the night, though," Pansy was saying. She grinned at him. "Let's listen to my new "Warring Toads" record! Mother hates it..."

Draco just nodded. He felt... distracted. He remembered that, in reality, he had declared that band to be terrible and made Pansy play quidditch with him instead. She hated flying, but she did it anyways.

Suddenly, people started dancing. His mother was dressed up just like she had been at the recent Charity Ball, and she smiled proudly down at him as his father swung her around gracefully. His father... was not in dress robes, though.

He was wearing his dirty Azkaban robes. He didn't seem to notice, and continued dancing around the hall as if nothing were different. As if nothing were wrong.

As if the door wasn't still looming, now moved closer down the wall towards Draco.

And then, the dancing stopped, and everyone turned again towards the door.

"Thwack. Thwack! Thwack!"

The sound was louder, closer. It sounded wetter, too, and Draco was beginning to realize he knew that sound. He wished he didn't, but he could never erase that from his mind completely. His breathing grew heavy, the drink in his hand gripped just a little tighter.

"What's wrong?" asked Pansy.

Draco looked down at her. Down. She was still seven years old, but now, he was taller. He wasn't a child anymore.