The Boy Who Lived

Houses and Homes

A/N The chapter refers to domestic violence in the first part.

Draco was curled up on his large king-size bed in the manor, clutching his left forearm that felt like it was burning from the inside out and, for the first time in his life, he felt alone and scared and truly angry with the world. Most of all, he was pissed off. Very pissed off. Particularly with Potter because this was his fault. If Potter had just stayed out of where his nose wasn't wanted. If he hadn't gone to the Ministry, if Potter hadn't interfered, his father would have succeeded and wouldn't be in Azkaban and Draco wouldn't have the Dark Mark tainting his skin.

When his mother came to his room, he sat up, his mask in place, a sneer on his face.

'Are you alright, darling?' she asked, sitting next to him on the bed.

'Just thinking how much I hate Potter. If it wasn't for him, father would be here,' he said aloofly.

'It wasn't Potter's fault,' said Narcissa quietly. 'It was a trap, laid down by the Dark Lord. He wanted Potter at the Ministry. He wants to kill Potter. Can't you see? Every year since he's attempted to rise again, he's tried to kill that boy.'

'So, who's fault is it that father is in Azkaban?' said Draco coldly.

'Lucius's own,' she shrugged, though the movement was barely noticeable. 'Or the Dark Lord's for underestimating Potter again.'

'But Potter still fought with the Death-Eaters, he got them arrested. I hate him! Why won't the Dark Lord let me kill him. I can get near him at school, I can do it.'

'Don't, Draco,' she said sternly. 'That's not his plan...' she sighed and a cold silence fell until she spoke again. 'Do not wish to kill someone, no matter who, it'll leave a darkness in your heart that you'll never recover from.'

He sneered, thinking her weak. The dark was the only way forward now; now that his arm was Marked, now that the Dark Lord had tasked him with his specific mission for the next year.

'I know what he's asked of you, Draco,' she said quietly. 'Severus will help you; I've ensured it.'

'I don't trust Severus. Anyway, the Dark Lord has tasked me. Me!' He ignored the desperation in his voice.

He got up and left the room, leaving his mother alone. He spent his time in the grounds, in the deer park beneath the giant chestnut and oak trees, trying to forget. He knew he was supposed to feel honoured that the Dark Lord had given him this task but he didn't feel very special. Somehow, he felt like his own death was approaching very fast.

He was only sixteen and he felt like he'd be dead before the year was out, either at the hands of the Dark Lord or Dumbledore or a thousand Aurors. He wasn't sure how he could possibly succeed.

Yes, Potter was to blame for all this mess.

He hated Potter.

And even if he wasn't allowed to kill him, he could still make his life a living hell next year...

Albus Dumbledore met Harry at the railway station near Little Whinging.

Not on purpose on Harry's part. Harry had just been hanging around in the platform café the night of his birthday to avoid being at No.4, Privet Drive.

Dumbledore had simply turned up on the platform opposite the café.

Typical really, Harry thought, pissed off because he might have just pulled the attractive dark-skinned waitress who'd just told him what time she finished her shift.

Now the old man wants to talk...

Mind you, last time they spoke there hadn't been much talking; mostly Harry shouting a lot and trashing Dumbledore's office.