Draco Malfoy One-Shots

Prisoner

Blood dripped from his fingertips, slapping against the stone floor and flowing into the small drain on his cell floor.

He had to get out, had to find her. Even if it killed him, he wouldn't care. She was the only thing that mattered.

Draco didn't know how long he'd lived inside the prison of his own home. Only that his father locked him away after he saved her.

Her name was Laila, Laila Walker, a muggleborn Hufflepuff. Brown curly hair falling to her shoulders, beautiful olive skin, and doe-like eyes.

She was perfect, and she was in danger. Snatched by a deatheater and brought to Malfoy manner so Draco could kill her.

He didn't.

He'd raised his wand and stunned the two men holding her in front of him. Then threw her to a house elf, along with one of his jackets.

Laila had cried out, begging Draco to come with her, but Draco only sent her a pained smile before throwing another spell at his father.

The elf had stared at him wide-eyed but quickly apparated Laila and himself away. Draco was then hauled away into this cell, where he remained for however long it'd been.

Draco grunted as he sawed through the bars, his hands torn raw from the wire he used. Blood stained his hair, face, and clothes. You could barely tell who he was anymore.

Only one bar remained until he could squeeze his way through the gap. He'd organized a perfect plan.

As soon as a deatheater came down to throw him some old bread and musty water, he'd quietly squeeze through the bars and strangle them from behind.

With a rusty clang, the bar broke. Draco sighed in relief and gripped it with both hands, struggling against the iron as he pulled it free.

He heard the creaking of the gate open from the top of the stairs and readied himself to strike. He'd have one chance.

"I brought you some bread, traitor," A cold voice stated, descending the steps, his boots slamming against the stone.

Draco's blood turned icy. He knew that voice all too well.

Lucius.

Draco clenched his fists, inhaling quietly and slipping through the bar, swallowing harshly.

"It's not too late, Draco. You can still come back to us and forget that filthy little mud-" Lucius got cut off when Draco came up behind him and locked his arm around his father's neck.

The tray clattered to the floor, and Lucius' hands went to Draco's arm, desperately clawing at it.

Draco covered Lucius' mouth with his hand muffling his cries for help.

"I'm not sorry, father," Draco whispered, tightening his grip until he heard a sickening yet satisfying crack.

Lucius' body went limp, and Draco dropped the lifeless man to the floor, bending down to check his neck for a pulse.

Nothing.

Draco let a coy smile cross his lips. His days of abuse and torture were over, and the abuser lay dead on the floor.

Draco searched through his father's coat, grinning when he found his wand tucked inside the pocket.

He lifted the wand to examine it, shaking his head before grabbing Lucius' coat and shrugging it on. It was a little small, but it would do.

Draco slowly ascended the stairs, aching for freedom with every step. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun.

The open gate creaked as he pushed it, allowing him to slip by and into the hallway of Malfoy manor.