Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the HP universe. This story is written only for the purpose of enjoyment and to satisfy my own twisted obsession with the HP characters. I am not making any type of profit off this story and no copyright infringement is intended against J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic, etc and whoever else is lucky enough to own part of the HP franchise.

The art in this banner is by CJs baby gurl. I found this image on fanpop. No harm is intended toward the artist. It's not mine and I'm not claiming it as my own.

Warnings: Mentions of past self-mutilation, mention of past child abuse (physical not sexual), underage drinking, and a snarky but depressed Draco.

Author's Note: This fic was originally written a long time ago; however, it still holds as a prequel into the FD universe. I have slightly edited it, so it shows snippets of Draco's life before he decides to attempt to take his life in FD. Just like FD, this fic is only compliant with the events of GOF and goes AU after that.

Also, in this fic, Harry and friends are in their 6th year of Hogwarts and both Hermione and Draco are prefects. This takes place a couple of weeks before Draco writes the letter in Father Dearest. If you enjoy this, then read Father Dearest! Comments are always welcome.

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Being a Malfoy is Hard Work

A Prequel to Father Dearest

Draco's POV

~~~~~o~~~~

Mornings are always absolutely horrid.

In fact, there is not one good thing about mornings. If it's sunny, then I get blinded by the ridiculous rays that insist on piercing their way through my immense windows. I've told Mother, time and time again, that those so-called "curtains" that she has installed in my room, do not actually keep the sun out, but she doesn't seem to care. Rather, she just gives me that "don't do you dare fuck with me look" and storms off insulted that I have questioned her impeccable taste in home furnishings. I dare not tell her that those curtains are atrocious and that 15-year-old boys do not appreciate having lustrous, silver curtains in their rooms. Oh well, you can't win them all, particularly not with Slytheirn mothers; you must choose your battles. Never forget that.

Still, it's not just the ostentatious strobe light effects, which I must wake up to every morning that ruins my love of mornings. No, mornings seem to hate me just as much as I hate them. At least I have my therapeutic eye mask now that I stole from Pansy, but blamed on Daphne. Ahh, that was such a fantastic day. Girl fights are hot. And Slytherins fight dirty. Yum.

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I can honestly say that I have never been "truly" happy even once in my life. The only time I think I was close to true happiness was when I was accepted into Hogwarts. I received my letter very late, embarrassing I know, so much so that my father thought I would not be magic enough to even attend Hogwarts.

Yes, that is my secret; I- Draco Malfoy- one of the top students at Hogwarts, was not able to perform even the simplest of spells as a boy.

Of course I grew up around magic, but still it was hard for me to grasp the concept of it. I think it was possibly because as a child, I felt such a great amount of fear toward my father. I always became nervous in front of him and couldn't think straight. All my thoughts became jumbled, and I felt my whole body start to quiver every time he entered the room.

I know that most children, at some point in their lives, have feared their parents or have dreaded what might happen to them, but I am positive that no child, Muggle or wizard, has ever come close to experiencing my sheer terror,desperation and overall hopelessness. Since I was a toddler, my father has always expected me to do great things. Unfortunately, I have always failed him, countless times really.

Naturally, I have always been punished for my failures.

Luckily for me, my father has always been creative with punishments; Merlin knows, I have fucked up enough times for him to have to think outside of the box to come up with a proper punishment. Since I was a little boy, I've been whipped and locked away in my dreary room without any meals. That was more your ordinary run of the mill punishment when I did something careless or idiotic like ruining my dress robes or behaving in improper Malfoy fashion. For more serious offenses, I 've been locked up in one of our nicer dungeon chambers with certain beasts, such as, hippogriffs(ironic I know), yetis, and nundus with only my wand. Once, I had defeated the beast properly and efficiently, I would be allowed to leave. But only then...never before.

My father seems to have a certain fascination with beasts or at least thinks that fighting against them is good character building because since the age of 8, every week for a few hours, Father would lock me up with some new beast and then comes back to see what's left of me. Trust me, I know the book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them by heart. I could probably even recite it in my sleep. I'm just that cool or that much of a swot...I'm not entirely sure which.

When I was younger, I always used to dread the night Father decided to give me my defense against beasts lessons because I knew they consisted of being locked in that torture chamber. As I have gotten older, I don't fear this "Lesson" so much anymore; I've pretty much learned to accept it as just another way of making me stronger. Like I said before, I'm a very weak person. Strength training is something I so desperately need or so Father says.

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I remember the time my father made me drink a potion that made my blood freeze. When you drink the potion glacies sanguinem your body temperature drops gradually until it finally drops so low that you become hypothermic. Your circulation starts slowing down until it's very slowly but eventually cut off completely. Sounds pleasant, doesn't it? Your heart has to work harder and harder to pump your blood; therefore, your brain stops getting a sufficient amount of oxygen. Eventually, vertigo hits and you can't think straight anymore;your body won't even respond to any changes in the environment. Even if you were to put your hand on a hot stove, you wouldn't react to the heat because your brain is literally freezing itself little by little. But that's not the worst of it. The worst part is how slowly the deadly and painful progression of symptoms takes place. It may take hours, but with every deep breath you take it gets harder to breathe and move-until you finally collapse and your heart stops. If you aren't give the antidote for glacies sanguinem, you will be dead or perhaps a human vegetable in 48-72 hours. I'm not sure, which fate is worst.

The day before my father gave me this potion he added it to the topics I had to research for the day. I now understand why he wanted me to be fully aware of how lethal the effects of the potion could be. He gave me the potion on Saturday morning and told me that in 12 hours he would give me the antidote for it...if I cooperated. My father wanted me to write an essay that was 5 ft of parchment on why you should respect your elders and on why disobedience is wrong. He expected it to be perfect, without any spelling mistakes, and especially free of grammatical errors or clumsy mistakes. He absolutely despised those kind of errors. Malfoys were never careless; he had been telling me that for as long as I can remember.

You see, my father is a perfectionist; he doesn't except anything less than extraordinary. But that's the whole problem-my father wanted an exceptional son, instead he got stuck with me, at best slightly above average and most of the time just barely adequate.

You might be wondering what is the dreadful sin that I committed for my father to give me such a severe punishment. I supposedly tarnished the Malfoy family name. I brought shame to the family, myself, and most importantly him.Again. Bloody figures. By now, you would think that our precious family name would be beyond repair since I've managed to bollocks up our honor so many times. Fucking Lucius. And he has the audacity to claim that I'm dramatic.

I get told things like this on a daily basis, but this time was different. When Father looked at me, he had such scorn and disdain in his eyes. He looked at me like he looks at the servants; he made me feel filthy and low.

At that moment, I felt inferior even to the house-elves. Obviously, Father and I have always had such a loving father and son relationship.

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It was a Friday night and Father was a having a "business" party. As his oldest and only son, I had to be present to converse with all his business associates and VIPs from the Ministry. Lucky me, I got to be excused from Hogwarts for the evening for a very important familial affair. Shoot me now. I can't believe I complained about spending last Friday night playing Exploding Snap with Crabbe and Goyle. Ugh.

My father told me that I MUST act in an urbane manner in front of all the guests or I would suffer the consequences. I was terrified to even ask what those consequences might be. There's nothing like a Malfoy wrath; I've definitely learned that the hard way.

Anyway, it was a Friday night and instead of being out with my "mates" like any normal 15-year-old wizard, I had to be home entertaining Father's guests. It was such a monotonous evening; I had to put on my most genuine smile(in actuality...I could really only manage a smirk), while greeting all the guests. I also had to dazzle them with my charm and keen intellect. Oh right, everyone always hears about that famous Malfoy charm. That's news to me.

"Good evening sir [madam], how do you do? I'm extremely pleased to make your acquaintance. Please tell me about your family. My father speaks so highly of you. He holds your work and family in the highest esteem. Of course, Hogwarts is lovely. The best years of a young lad's life indeed…"

It was the same humdrum conversations over and over again. I was growing wearisome with the evening. It was getting later into the night, and I thought that I couldn't handle one more dance with one of my Father's "friend's" daughters. They were all the same; all their daughters were fat, ugly, trolls in heels, wearing way too much make-up and way past their expiration date. I could just see all their beady little eyes looking me over as if I were some type of dessert. Bloody Hell, I'm only 15 and would only consider an older woman if she was stunning, captivating, and ridiculously wealthy of course. Besides, they always trampled on my poor feet and got upset if I tried to lead.

The bloke leading? What a strange and horrible idea-what was I thinking? The bloke never leads…I must have been pissed or something…

Yes, alcohol one of the few pleasures I managed to have during my Father's "business" party. There was an open bar, and even Draco Malfoy, who usually is never allowed within 10 ft of Father's liquor supply, was allowed to have as many drinks as I pleased. I had a little bit of everything that night. I started off with just a couple of lagers (even though Father pretends he is too refined for lagers-he says he only buys them for his less aristocratic guests (bullshit in my opinion), but I later decided to go for the more tropical drinks like mai tais and long island iced teas. With dinner, I also consumed an entirepitcher of sangria; all those Spainards must walk around pissed all day if they have sangria with almost every meal. Finally, I just started chugging bottles of champagne, in the toilet of course. I couldn't let my father's "friends" see Lucius's boy chug champagne even if it was a rather expensive vintage That's just so unrefined, undignified, and completely unacceptable behavior for the heir to the Malfoy estate.

I am a Malfoy. Malfoy's are respected; they are supercilious people, or they are at least supposed to be. Malfoys, especially 15 year old Malfoys, are not drunks or alcoholics.

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It is said that alcohol cures ALL problems-that it will get rid of your worries and fears.

That is SO TRUE!

That night, after I was completely pissed, I felt so good, finally relaxed. I didn't have a care in the world, nothing bothered me. I didn't care what my father thought of me or even what his business associates thought of me. I didn't give a fuck either! I didn't think about my grades or the fact that I am only a burden to my father. I didn't care that I always vexed my father because I wasn't like him. I didn't even go over my long list of failures and continual disappointments that father always asks me to write and review.

No, I was in another world,a better place where I lived for me, myself, and I, NOT MY BLOODY FATHER! This might not seem like much of an accomplishment or even a reason to be happy, but for me, it's what I have always wanted. Perhaps one day I'll be able to feel that way without being utterly shit faced. I can only hope.

Like I said before, that night I was positively plastered. I had never drank so much alcohol in my life. I was relieved to have finished dancing with all of my father's "companions" daughters. My feet were incredibly sore, but because of all the alcohol I had consumed, I didn't feel any pain. I sighed loudly, my feet would now have a rest, I wouldn't have to deal with fat feet squished into high heeled shoes, that were much too tight, and that always stumbled all over my very expensive dragonhide shoes. I had danced with every "young" and unmarried girl in the place. I had done my part as a host, gentleman, and potential suitor. Thank Merlin, I could finally relax for the rest of the night.

But sleep didn't come easy that night.

For some strange reason, every time I closed my eyes, the only thing I could see was continuous flashes of frizzy hair. What the fuck? I must be pissed if I keep thinking about a Mud-no...her. Yes, if I keep thinking about her. I wonder what she's doing tonight?

Stop being an idiot. You know it can never be. She doesn't want you. She's the only girl you can't have. Just go have another drink instead.

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Well, that is all for now. That is my holiday gift to you all. It's a short FD prequel. Please tell me what you think.

Thanks a lot and Happy Holidays!

-Icicle