The Mirror of Erised

Draco Malfoy, Aged 17

Draco Malfoy scampered down the front lawn, following the two tall figures in front of him. Rubble was strewn everywhere, and he constantly stumbled over the shapeless lumps on the ground- he didn't bother to check if they were dead bodies or just harmless debris.

The rest of the grounds of Hogwarts was eerily quiet, save the soft murmur of voices coming from the Great Hall. From the open doors, a golden light spilled out, illuminating a bit of the grounds. Draco itched to go back into the light, but the figures he had been following were retreating further into the distance.

"Draco, hurry up," snapped one of the figures. His eyes were cold, and his mouth was turned up into a sneer. The moonlight reflected off of his silvery hair.

"Yes, father." Draco bowed his head meekly.

He started off faster this time, but in his haste, he tripped over a tree root and stretched his hands out to break his fall. "Ouch!" he cried when he landed. His hand had been hurt sometime during the battle, and now a stinging sensation coursed through it, as if a thousand needles were poking into his skin.

He cradled his injured hand and hastily scrambled up as Lucius Malfoy turned back around.

"What happened?" asked Lucius. He strode over. "I told you we have to get out of here quickly. They may have pardoned us, but we still need to lie low for awhile." His voice was low and dangerous, silkily persuasive, but also threatening. Draco nodded meekly and gulped.

Lucius pulled Draco up, and Draco let out a yelp of pain.

"What?" Lucius snapped.

"I think my wrist is broken," Draco said.

The tall, blonde woman who had walked next to Lucius squealed and ran over to her son, holding his hand tenderly. "Are you alright?" she asked, her grey-blue eyes wide with concern. Next to her, Lucius Malfoy stood as tall and haughty as ever, but his expression softened.

"It's okay, 'Cissa," he said. "You can take care of that when we get home."

"Of course," said Narcissa, straightening up and backing away.

"And you," said Lucius, turning to Draco, "try to be more quiet. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves."

"Yes, Father," said Draco.

"Now," continued Lucius, "Do we have anything? Wands ready to apparate?"

Narcissa gave a quick, short nod while Draco stuffed his hand into his pockets. Where was his wand? He dug a big deeper, but all that he found was a bit of pocket lint and two knuts. Then he remembered- he had left his wand by his bed, next to his trunk.

He stupid could he be to have forgotten his wand?

Lucius was still staring at Draco, awaiting an answer, so Draco cleared his throat nervously. "I... left it in Slytherin's dungeons," he said quietly.

Draco quailed under the infuriated look his father gave him. "You what?" asked Lucius.

"I forgot my wand," repeated Draco. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting for the explosion, but it never came.

"Go get it then," Lucius said. Draco opened his eyes in surprise. "Quickly," snapped Lucius.

Draco hurried away, letting out a breath of relief. To be honest, he had expected his father to yell and rage at him. It wasn't that Lucius Malfoy didn't love his son, for he did. Everyone knew that. But he had odd ways of showing his love- he'd shower Draco with gifts, as usual, but he'd also have high expectations of his son, reprimanding him almost all the time. No matter what Draco did, it never seemed to be good enough for his father.