Title: Sense of Security

Author: SuperiorityComplex88

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Draco Malfoy or Lucius Malfoy. (Yes, this upsets me, lol...) Those characters belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling...

Summary: An innocent, nine-year-old Draco Malfoy is one thing, but an innocent, nine-year-old Draco Malfoy associating with Muggles is quite another - especially when Lucius Malfoy knows about it.

"It is much more secure to be feared than to be loved."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

Clenching his jaw in resolution, Lucius Malfoy calmly set down the foot-long strip of parchment he'd been reading. He dared not take his eyes off of it as it rested on the highly polished mahogany desk in his personal chambers. If he looked away, he feared that he might lose his resolve for doing what he was about to do.

He drew a breath without moving. "Narcissa!" he called imperiously.

Two seconds later, the door to his office opened; his wife appeared in the doorway, robes and hair immaculate as ever. "Yes, Lucius?"

"Bring Draco in here."

The woman gave him a slightly annoyed look. "Dearest, he's just gone outside with his broomstick to pract—"

"Now."

Narcissa snapped her mouth shut and slackened her face. "Of course." Without hesitation, she turned and hurried off.

Lucius gave a sharp sigh, letting his eyes go out of focus as they rested on the parchment. After all these years of marriage, he'd thought that his wife would have learned not to contradict him, especially when matters of this level of importance depended on her cooperation. And such matters did – whether Narcissa was aware of it or not.

"Foolish woman," he muttered involuntarily.

Quite suddenly, his eyes fell back into focus, and he reread the letter before him for the sixth time. Really, it was all rather unexpected... He'd known that a few Muggles lived in the area nearby, of course, but he'd been almost too careful to insure that his now nine-year-old son wouldn't be involved with them. It was the most decent land for miles; he'd made sure of that. It was the ideal place for the Malfoys to live, filled with only the most prominent, pureblooded names in the wizarding world (for the most part). The people nearby had no idea that the streets surrounding them were populated with wizards and witches, but Lucius vowed to change that if ever they caused too much of a bothersome stir in his life.

Now, it seemed, the exact opposite had happened.

The letter, full of jovial greeting and formal introduction, came from the Muggle family living nearest to them: the Clarkes. (A frail name indeed, Lucius thought with disgust.) Apparently, Draco had been conversing with their child, Jonathan, for the past two weeks.

Lucius fumed. Two weeks... It was Narcissa's fault, of course. The stupid woman had allowed their son to go along his own bloody merry way, playing with the neighboring Muggle filth. Lucius had made it abundantly clear to Draco that if he ever came close to mingling with Muggles of his own accord, he would pay dearly for it. Draco wasn't stupid, he knew. His son surely heard the screams late at night of the tortured Muggles held down in the dungeons, week after week. The boy knew his family's position in society, knew the consequences of disobeying Lucius...

Obviously, Lucius thought with a scowl, he doesn't know them well enough.

A smattering of footsteps outside the room brought his attention around again. That damned parchment laid as still as ever in front of him. He kept staring at it as if it would somehow punish Draco for him... but no, he couldn't be ridiculous. That wasn't possible, nor was it necessary. Lucius would take care of it himself.

The door slowly creaked open.

"Father?" came the curious voice from the doorway.

Lucius, at last, looked up from the letter, locking eyes with his son. The boy looked like a young, spitting image of Lucius. The only exception was his cheerfulness – Draco's childish cheerfulness that he always wore. Women loved fawning over him because of his angelic beauty, and Narcissa never stopped the influx of compliments. Yet another reason for Lucius to loathe his wife.

Lucius bore holes into the eyes of the child he helped bring into the world, and it was clear that the child had quickly sensed his father's intensity.

The cheerfulness faded slightly.

Lucius pointed to the leather chair on the opposite side of the desk. "Sit."

Draco blinked and did as he was told, blonde hair gleaming in the little amount of sunlight his father would allow inside of the office. "Is everything all right, Father?"

Breathing through his nose as silently as possible, Lucius kept his eyes locked onto Draco's, picked up the letter with two fingers, and brandished it in front of his son's wide eyes. "It's from the Clarkes," he remarked, maddeningly serene.

Draco's grey eyes raked over the letter, still wide. Lucius watched intently. After a lengthy minute, Draco looked up at his father, who intercepted his son's apprehension in a second. "Well... they said they'd like to have me over again, Father," Draco reasoned in a small voice. "It... it can't be too bad, can it?"

With no preamble, Lucius snarled and rose from his desk, the letter discretely floating to the ground. "Do you dare to contradict me, Draco? Do you not distinctly remember your place? Have I taught you nothing?"

Even with his eyes wide, Draco remained somewhat calm. "You've taught me many things, Father, but I can learn just as much on my own. They aren't bad, really – if you would only meet them, or—"

Lucius glowered. "If I could meet – what madness is this?" he roared. To his astonishment, Draco's eyes clouded.

"It isn't madness!" his son countered quite stubbornly. "Jonathan is the only friend I have, Father, and I rather think he knows things that are much more useful than those you've taught me!"

There was a bout of silence as Draco's face seemed to freeze into a neutral expression, and Lucius pulled out his wand.

"I doubt that," Lucius muttered coldly. "Crucio!"

Immediately, Draco's impassive face betrayed nothing but pain as the boy dropped to the floor, twitching and writhing with every second that passed. Lucius had to give his son credit – the boy rarely screamed when punished. As soon as he'd seen his son's neutral expression as he unsheathed his wand, he knew Draco was preparing himself for the pain.

Well, at least he's mastered mental control, Lucius thought dryly. Draco, still looking fit to burst with agony, continued to spasmodically move about on the floor. Lucius could tell the boy was hardly being affected by the curse at all. Gripping his wand tighter, he focused all of his energy upon Draco, staring.

With a great convulsion, Draco's face stretched into a portrait of anguish, mouth wide and eyes shut tight. He finally let out a resounding scream that chilled Lucius's blood.

At long last, the older Malfoy couldn't help but think.

Lucius lifted the curse, and there was silence again, save for Draco's ragged panting as he lay face down on the floor. His blonde hair still shone in the thin strips of sunlight in the room, and Lucius had to purse his lips to keep from cursing his son again... not for being weak, but for simply being his son, for placing upon Lucius the responsibility of raising the heir to the most prominent wizarding family in the magical world, not to mention a very powerful potential Death Eater. Forever was Lucius obligated to keep the boy in check, he realized. As long as Draco kept his stubborn attitude, however, there would be problems that his father refused to have. It was indeed up to Lucius to see to it that Draco did not falter in his train of thought or appearance.

The younger Malfoy turned his head ever so slightly to look at Lucius; Draco's eyes were guarded. Lucius, despite himself, felt a surge of pride.

"Go," the man ordered.

Drawing in a near-silent breath, Draco pushed himself up and left without a word or a look to his father.

Twirling his wand in his right hand, Lucius stoically turned back to his desk and spotted the parchment on the floor. He stared at it with disdain for a moment. Then, scowling, he pointed his wand downward toward the cursed thing. "Incendio."

The parchment burst into flames and burned for a few moments before disappearing.

"Muggle filth."