1 Nothing you can do

Narcissa Malfoy looked at her new baby boy with a mixture of feelings. She was elated and her face showed it, but she also feared for the poor baby. Her husband was Lucius Malfoy, a death eater. The baby would never be safe with a family having such dark ties. 'But I'll try my best..' was her last thought before she blacked out.

Draco Malfoy was born with almost too pale skin, and gold-white hair like his parents. He had a black streak in it like his mother. He cried as soon as he took his first breath in, not knowing that he should have saved the tears for later.

He lived in a mansion filled with priceless artifacts and paintings. But it was usually empty and cold. Lucius was hardly ever home, and Narcissa sometimes went with him. So growing up, little Draco usually wandered through the many empty rooms aimlessly, looking for something he never found. Being lonely was the only thing he knew.

When little Draco was five, Lucius decided to take him somewhere. Draco did not like his father very much. Lucius was cold and untrustworthy, and he never spent time with Draco. He looked at his father guardedly, but tried to keep pace with his father's big steps, holding onto his long coat, on a cold winter's day with frigid wind blowing some red leaves across the pavement.

"Dad?" Lucius glared at him and said, "Where did you learn that word from? You will only address me as father or sir. If you don't, I assure you that you will feel the pain."

Draco winced and kept quiet. A while later, he couldn't suppress his curiosity anymore and he said, "Sir? Where are we going?"

Lucius seemed to be too good at glaring, Draco realized, when he looked down. "If you don't shut that nasty mouth of yours, I'll shut it," He said, touching his wand. The little boy knew that the wand did weird things, and he knew a few spells from hearing them so often. He shuddered, knowing that the wand could probably do amazing and horrible things. Draco was already way too silent and mature for a five-year old. But he knew that he daren't make his father angry.

The two reached a small house in a secluded spot after some walking. Draco's feet were hurting quite a lot, but he decided against complaining when he saw his father. They walked into the small house.

A gaunt, weak man lay in chains on the grimy floor. When Lucius and Draco came in, he raised his face. It was a defiant, but resigned expression. Lucius told his son to stay there.

"Now watch," He said. "Crucio!"

The man writhed in agony. Draco's eyes widened. His father seemed to be enjoying it, even! But the boy could not bear to watch. He covered his eyes.

"Avada Kedavra!" He heard, and saw an eerie green light. When he next opened his eyes, the man was motionless on the floor, and Lucius was looking at him angrily. "I asked you to see that!"

"I'm s-sorry, sir. I couldn't watch it."

"You couldn't?"

"Why did you hurt him?"

Lucius' expression hardened. "Why did I hurt him? I didn't just hurt him, I killed him! He's gone forever now. He'll never come back!"

Draco paled. "D-doesn't he have someone who'll miss him?"

"Probably. Why do you even care about that? The main reason was, he is a muggleborn."

"What's that?"

"Muggles who have wizard children. We call them MUDBLOODS." He snarled.

"B-but he's a wizard too! And so what if he's a muggleb-"

The next thing he knew was being smacked to the ground, with Lucius' large palm on his pale cheek. Draco looked up, hurt showing in his big child-like eyes.

"So what, eh? I'll teach you. We are the Malfoy family, the most famous family. And we" Slap. "Will." Slap. "Not." Slap. "Tolerate." Smack. "MUDBLOODS. They are scum. Disgrace. Filth. They make our society dirty in every way. Do you hear me?"

"B-but-"

"HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME?!"

"I'm s-sorry, sir. Mudbloods are bad. I know now."

The man's expression calmed to cold anger. "Never, ever repeat that mistake again. Or you will get something much worse that a few slaps."

Few slaps, indeed. Draco's cheeks were a bloody mess, and his mouth was bleeding from biting his lips to suppress his tears. He hid his face in his scarf and kept walking. His face was empty, but Hus eyes held fear. He felt like he couldn't do anything to change this, just like he couldn't do anything to save the man, just like the expression the man had worn. His eyes were also sunken in resignation.

"Mom, is it bad to kill people because they're mudbloods?"

"Who taught you that?!"

"Father did."

Narcissa sighed in resignation. "N-no. Mudbloods are a disgrace. They deserve to die."

Draco wondered why his mother sounded so unconfident about that. "Then aren't Muggles worse?"

She sighed. "Just go to bed. I'll make your favourite muffin tomorrow."

Draco dropped his head and trudged into the bedroom. He slipped into bed and closed his eyes.

The green light kept flashing in his head that night, as well as his father gleefully shouting the curses. But the image he couldn't get rid of was the man's last expression before it was replaced with agony.

There's nothing you can do about anything.