What Makes A Dragon?

By Kawaii Kitty

Chapter 1

Another Summer Begins.

Another year at Hogwarts gone by, and another year without the House Cup. Four years in a row, not good for the house of Slytherin's reputation one bit. Not good for my Father's ego, either. As soon as he spotted me in the train station platform stepping off of the train, I could tell that I would be in for a rough summer by just the look in his cold gray eyes.

In the shelter of our carriage, where the two of us sat opposite of each other, my father begin to tear into me with his harsh, large vocabulary.

"I heard about the House Cup through the Daily Prophet, Draco." His bitter, deep voice said to me accusingly. I lowered my head and shifted my eyes away from him shamefully, even though I could feel the full force of them burning into my very soul. We sat in a VERY uncomfortable silence for about thirty seconds. "Well?" he said accusingly.

"What of it?" I glanced at him for a moment. "You already know all about it, so why are you asking me?" by the time I had uttered the first syllable; I knew I had made the wrong move and my queen was about to be taken.

"I want to know why you failed again, Draco." He said callously. I shifted my eyes back toward him, keeping it at the base of his staff, the limited sunlight in the carriage glinting off the silver. "You are a MALFOY. A Malfoy does NOT fail under any circumstances. None whatsoever, especially to those who associate with Mudbloods."

Anyone at school would have attacked him at the usage of such a word. He was referring to those students at school who became witches or wizards by complete fluke, not a drop of magical blood in their veins. The term was very vulgar, as I had found when I had used it. My father had managed to work it into his regular lexis without much resistance from anyone else.

"Yes, Father." I said a bit under my breath in answer to his ranting. I had gotten used to this type of thing. All he did was dictate to me about how everything I ever did was wrong. One time, he even had the guts to tell me that I was a mistake. All I could do was sit there and take it. Had I even thought about talking back to him, he would hex me to make me feel as if I would have maggots eating away at me beneath my skin.

"Draco, you have no idea about the destiny you are expected to live up to!" he said, his look on me intensifying tenfold. I nodded, having heard this speech fifty times or more. "You are destined to aid the Dark Lord in the re-claiming of this world and the enslavement of the Muggles!"

I looked up at him, my eyes showing annoyance. "Why should I follow in his footsteps?" I asked.

"Because it is the vocation of your future." He gave me a small smirk that sent ice down my spine. His words sickened me. I shot him a look of dislike, which made him quirk an eyebrow at me. "Hm? Did you have something to say to me, Draco?"

I knew better than to say anything. Deciding to maintain my well-polished dignity and pride, I stifled myself before I could say one of the thousands of things that shot through my mind at that moment. I knew that if I had chosen to speak, the head of his staff would have a permanent residence in my skull. I sighed softly and shook my head. "No, sir. I do not." I muttered, a tone of irritation in my voice.

He nodded. "Good." He said. He then lifted his staff and lifted my head with the head of his staff, exposing my long neck. "My, my, Draco…" he said, looking my form over. "If I do say so myself, you've got all of the makings of what truly creates a Malfoy…"

I hated being compared to him. He made me sick, to be truthful. There was just…something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  I jerked my head from the cold head of the snake that sat on his staff, glaring at him defiantly. "Take that back."

I raised an eyebrow and sat back. "You cannot deny the truth, Draco." He said, widening his smirk so that he allowed me to look at his teeth, most notably, his perfectly curved and maintained canines. It was as if he had been attacked by a vampire and wanted to take me as his next victim. "You are a Malfoy, destined to carry on this family's name, keeping it-"

"Pure, I know." I finished for him. I snorted and looked to the side. "You think I would actually marry a Mudblood, Father?" I looked at the passing scenery the best I could through the drawn curtains. "They're disgusting. Every last one of them."

I could feel him smile. I was almost glad I wasn't looking at him. When he smiled, it meant that he wanted something, and I wasn't about to give him that… thing… I still shudder as I think about that smile… it was cruel and malicious, and yes, even charming. Those smiles made me hate him the most, bringing back to me all of the horrible things that they meant in the past.

Once again, he reached out his staff and pulled my head toward him. "I've taught you well, haven't I, Draco?" I studied his face, and then nodded wordlessly. "You should be thinking that way. Those filthy Mudbloods are the scourge of this earth, destroying the definition of magic."

I nodded. At least there was one thing we could agree on. "Yes, Father." As I spoke, the head of the snake was tracing my jaw. I then swallowed nervously, causing him to run the staff down my neck. I shuddered for a moment and closed my eyes to keep myself from looking him in the eye. If I had, he knew that he had me. I felt the snake now move down my chest, leaving a cold trail of my father's wants in its wake.

'No, Draco… Stop this… Have dignity, have pride… don't let yourself revert to his little servant. Not again. Not again, dammit.' I thought to myself, my face muscles twitching as his staff traveled further down my front.

"No." I managed to choke out in a squeak.

"Excuse me?" my father said, leaning in closer to me.

I maintained my firm expression, my eyes still closed. "I said… 'no'." I happened to get out again.

His gaze on me hardened, I'm sure. "Why won't you look me in the eyes, Draco?" he said in a calm, low voice. I bit the inside of my lip to keep myself from lashing out at him with my now finely toned wit. "Well? Are you afraid, boy?"

I swallowed and released my lip. "I. Fear. Nothing."

His smooth, black dragonhide gloves touching my jaw. "Really?" He gave a soft chuckle. "Then why won't you open your eyes?"

I gave a small breath, and then opened my eyes to meet my father's, which were no further than twenty centimeters from mine. I stared at them as hard as I could without the desire of making them explode. I repeated myself. "I. Fear. Nothing."

His smug look disappeared. "Well, you should fear me."

I felt a smirk flicker on my face. "But why should I have to, dear father?"

He shot me a look of pure disgust and released his hand from my face, only to have the back of it come and strike me across my face. "You will not be a smartass around me. Are we clear, Draco?"

I held my cheek and glared at him. "Crystal." I rubbed my cheek and then folded my arms, leaning back and staring at the curtains, avoiding my father's staring at me.

Why… Why oh why did I have to be born a Malfoy…?