After a hard day at work, it feels good to come home.

Author's note: This very short chapter contains a very shocking passage. I invite those sensitive to sexual violence to skip this passage. A summary will be at the beginning of the next chapter so you won't be lost.

oOoOoOo

Draco Malfoy was nervously rubbing his hands as he watched his mother swing from one extreme to the other. He had never seen his mother so upset. In fact, it was the first time he had seen any emotion on the gentle face of the cold Slytherin princess. She kept pacing nervously, insulting all the servants who came within her reach (or even him if he dared to move too abruptly). This was not how Draco had imagined his long-awaited return to Malfoy Manor.

Carelessly, Draco tried to mask his disappointment by giving a violent kick to a house-elf who passed within his reach. But the only effect of this outburst of violence was to increase his frustration when, in surprise, the elf dropped the tray of macarons he had expressed a desire for out loud a few minutes earlier. Yet, for as long as he could remember, mistreating the staff had always been a source of satisfaction (and one of the few ways to gain his father's approval). It seems that today his problems were too serious. Or that he had become too old to be satisfied with his simple pleasures.

Without thinking, he began to pick up the macarons from the ground, then under his mother's furious gaze, he stopped abruptly. Once again, he cursed Nott senior and the humiliations he had to endure because of him. He still couldn't believe he had dared to deprive him of food. He, a Malfoy. And all that just because he couldn't keep up with his stupid training sessions. But this discomfort had been minor compared to the fear he felt when, in anger, he had spat in the face of the Nott patriarch that his wife had been right to commit suicide to no longer have to endure him. After this episode, to his great shame, he began to obey without question even the most absurd orders of the head of the Nott house. He didn't even dare ask the reason for the sudden disappearance of Nott junior. Anyway, the company of the Nott son was hardly more pleasant than that of his father and consequently, he didn't really miss him.

When his father came to get him out of that hell this morning, he didn't know whether he should thank him on his knees or beat him for abandoning him there in the first place. Instead, he chose to sulk with dignity by regularly sending dark looks at his father. He expected to be sharply reprimanded for such a lack of respect, then for his father to ask him the reason for his attitude. During the rare moments of respite that Nott senior allowed him, Draco dreamed of the moment when he could denounce all the abuse the man had inflicted on him. He was sure that as soon as his father found out, he would take his side and ensure that no member of that family would dare even look at a Malfoy wrongly for the next five generations.

However, his father had barely seemed to notice. Maybe he too considered him a weakling unworthy of his blood? That was too much for Draco. As soon as they arrived at Malfoy Manor, he insulted his father and ran to lock himself in his suite. Draco knew it was a completely childish behavior.Unworthy of pure blood. His parents had repeatedly told him during his early childhood that this kind of childish behavior was neither tolerable nor tolerated. However, the mix of anger and sadness combined with the frustration he had accumulated over the past week left him with no other alternative.

A few minutes later, his father had knocked on his door, but he had refused to open it, and Lucius had not insisted. Apparently, he couldn't wait and left hastily, saying in a calm voice that betrayed a threat that he didn't have time for his childishness and that he would see him upon his return. In response, Draco had shouted that he hated him, but his father had already turned on his heels. He spent the next hour reducing everything within reach to ashes (including the unfortunate elf who tried to reason with him) using the spells taught to him by Nott senior (more than ever he blessed the privilege of being able to ignore the Trace during his summers at Malfoy Manor).

Once exhausted, he sat in the middle of the ruins that now constituted his suite and thought. He was going to show them all that he was up to the task. He was going to show his father that he was worthy of being his heir. And that started with pulling himself together. He called upon the occlumency concepts that Nott and his father had taught him and with difficulty suppressed the violent emotions he felt deep in his mind in order to compose a neutral face. Then he went out, determined to confront his father. Or the dark lord in person. During those long weeks, he had been deliberately kept in the dark, but he had understood from the few sentences he had managed to extract from young Nott that the dark lord was back and that he had, of course, chosen to stay in their home (another proof in Draco's eyes of the importance of his family). The dark lord, he thought, would know what an exceptional being he was. Draco was already imagining his father's pride when the master would lavish praises on his devotion to their cause and the pride he would have in welcoming him among his Death Eaters, when he was finally old enough.

But all he found was his mother dead with worry. Lucius had never come home late. Not for 14 years. Without giving Draco time to speak, she ordered him to sit and wait beside her. Very quickly, whether due to boredom or the frugality of lunch at the Notts, his stomach had started to rumble. In accordance with proprieties, they then sat down to eat. Or rather, he sat down to eat. Despite the magnificence of the dishes presented to him, Narcissa had barely touched her plate and simply watched Draco eat in silence with a curious look.

It was only late in the evening that they finally felt the manor's protections quiver. The master of the house had arrived. With a dull noise, the doors of the state room where they were waiting opened abruptly, and Harry Potter stepped forward with a conquering stride. Draco's first instinct was to be outraged. How dared this blood traitor enter their home with such arrogance? But the words died in his mouth when his mother took him in her arms. In secret, his mother had occasionally allowed herself such effusions, but she had never hugged him so fiercely. When she began to kiss him frantically, telling him she loved him, Draco began to feel afraid.

Harry then exclaimed with a big sadistic smile on his lips:

Ah what a beautiful day.

In the unsettling silence that fell over the manor, he removed his shoes and sat in the massive chair resembling a throne that was reserved for the master of the house. Draco was filled with incomprehension at such audacity,but his protests died when he met the red eyes filled with hatred. He had to quickly lower his eyes to prevent his occlumency barriers from shattering under the sheer malevolent pressure emanating from them. Harry, on the other hand, didn't even seem to notice his presence and ordered:

Woman, go get me a tea. And you, miserable runt, go clean my shoes. I want them like new tomorrow morning. He ordered, pointing at Draco.

Lord. Where is Lucius? Narcissa asked desperately, while her son remained mute with incomprehension.

Oh yes, that's right, I had forgotten. I discovered that he was a traitor. But rejoice, I killed him.

Immediately, Narcissa collapsed in tears, while Draco blinked in confusion. His father couldn't be dead. Not when their last exchange had been insults. However, his mother's reaction left no doubt. Visibly annoyed by this outburst of emotions, Voldemort stood up and began to caress Narcissa's face. Then, under Draco's horrified eyes, with his other hand, he firmly grasped one of the witch's breasts.

Come on, don't cry Narcissa. His treachery does not tarnish the esteem I have for you. I told you not to cry. Endoloris!

She writhed in pain for several minutes. Draco's brain couldn't comprehend the scene he was witnessing. By reflex, he adopted the attitude of cold indifference that his upbringing had conditioned him to feign in public. His gaze remained fixed on the events, unable to look away.

You should rather think about how to serve your master in a way that makes me forget the actions of your dear husband.

Voldemort made a great effort to push back the repulsion he felt at touching another human being and began to remove Narcissa's bra. She pretended to resist then he murmured:

You wouldn't want anything to happen to Draco, would you? After all, like father, like son.

Under the helpless gaze of her son, she let it happen. At the moment, she felt nothing. She felt as if cut off from her own emotions. She barely understood what was happening. After what seemed to her like an infinitesimal amount of time, the brutal back and forth stopped, and she felt a warm liquid running between her thighs. Then she was brutally thrown to the ground, as if she were just a simple object. As tears began to run down Narcissa's cheeks, Voldemort left, smiling.

Narcissa did not know it, but he had done her a great honor. Thought Voldemort. She was the first with whom he lowered himself to such a bestial act. Nevertheless, despite his disgust, he had to keep the promise he had made to the dying corpse of his former right-hand man. He had certainly thought about killing them, but death was far too gentle a punishment. He would personally ensure that Lucius's precious family suffered for a very long time. And when they had lost all hope, then they would kill them. Their fate would serve as a warning to the next who might consider betraying him. Regardless of their rank or usefulness, all must learn to fear Lord Voldemort.

That night, while most families in England were having a sleepless night waiting for news of their loved ones and fearing a new attack, Voldemort fell asleep with a smile on his lips. Everything was going according to hisplans. Almost. He would never have imagined that the traitor was Lucius or that Dumbledore could survive his trap. However, everything would soon be back in order. The lemony one had finally reached his limits and without his precious order, he could do nothing against him. And when he finally defeats him, no one would look down on him anymore.

Draco, for his part, fell asleep with his heart full of a new feeling. For the first time in his life, he knew what hatred and the desire for revenge truly were.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: From its initial version, this chapter was hard, but in its rewritten version, I find it horrible. To the point that I hesitated to keep it.

Originally, this chapter and the one where he tortures Nott Junior were the only ones where Voldemort appeared. All the others talked about the situation in the world and the actions of Nott and Draco's gang. Initially, this chapter was meant to quickly show Voldemort's psychology and how much of a monster he is. And in it, we didn't dwell on what the characters felt. Originally in this chapter (and in the others), I just described what was happening without dwelling on what the characters thought. But for the sake of consistency when I modified the other chapters, I also had to modify this one. But upon rereading, I found the result needlessly shocking.

I then wondered if I should remove this incident. But I finally decided to keep it, because without it, it would be difficult to explain the survival of the Malfoys and Draco's actions in the following chapters. In short, it would have required too many changes to the story.

I hope this chapter did not displease you and I promise that it is the last one that is so shocking. Voldemort will continue to be horrible (and not just a little), but my writing will be less so. Which doesn't mean that the next chapters will all be cheerful either. (far from it)