Author's Note: Ok, I know the whole abused, angsty Draco thing has been done like a million times, but I this is my first time doing it soo... :) In any case, this is both my first Harry Potter and my first angst fic.  So saying, I'm sorry if at times Draco or Lucius seem out of character.  I also happened to be rather depressed myself when writing this, so I also apologize if it gets too sappy.  Please review, I'd appreciate any kind of advice/constructive criticism/ect, seeing as I really have no idea what I'm doing :)  Umm, flame if you must, free speech and all that, but if you're going to, please be specific as to what angers you so much so they serve some sort of purpose.  Now, this is set to Numb by Linkin Park and is just gonna be this one chapter so... enjoy....

I had to repost this, because I forgot a disclaimer *oops*.  Ok, here is is: I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's characters... yeah I know, you're all very shocked....

     The house, the mansion, was amazing.  Surely, anyone inside would feel honored to be able to exist in such splendor.  It was the best and who, after all, didn't want the best?  The family who lived in this magnificent structure always got the best, by fair ways or ways... not so fair.  Only they knew that this luxury was cold to the touch, that however large the manor was... it would never be a home.

~*I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless
Lost under the surface*~

     In one of the many rooms of this manor a sixteen-year-old boy lay on his bed, each breath an effort.  Draco Malfoy stared at the door he knew to be locked.  Not just with a key, but spells, enchantments that would keep him there until his father felt like letting him out.  His gaze turned to the silver framed photo of him and his parents clutched in his hand.  Taken about a year before, it was typical of most family portraits they had.  It was a wizard picture (as if they would have anything muggle made) but still they stood perfectly still.  To move would be to show some feelings, something Malfoys did not do.  Each one was a flawless ice statue.  His mother, Narcissa, was polished to perfection, her mouth a straight line.  She looked dignified and untouchable.  Towering next to her was his father, Lucius, wearing black dress robes and holding his silver topped cane.  Emotionless eyes stared out from under the glass, causing Draco to shudder involuntarily and spasms of pain to shot throughout his bruised body.  In front of them, in the middle, stood Draco himself, only a little shorter than his father.  He was also attired in black dress robes, his white blonde hair slicked back and his whole face mimicked his fathers, except for his eyes.  Unlike Lucius' they held a softness that, although guarded, was visible if one looked closely enough.   Still, the three looked like they belonged together, all seemingly uncaring and indifferent.  Their very stances screamed, "We are above you!"

~*I don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure
Of walking in your shoes*~

     That is what scared Draco the most, for his father's footsteps were the last things he wanted to follow.  A trickle of blood from a cut on his upper cheek reached his mouth and he licked it off his lips.  If he could just get to his wand and heal the cuts... but getting up was out of the question.  He remembered this clearly when he squirmed a little without thinking and white-hot pain consumed his leg.  Eyes growing moist, he chanted to himself, "Malfoys don't cry, Malfoys don't cry".

~*[Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow]
Every step that I take is another mistake to you*~

He was still reciting it when the first tear slid down his pale cheek, mixing with the blood.

~*I've
Become so numb
I can't feel you there
Become so tired
So much more aware*~

     It wasn't the first time his father had "expressed his disappointment" but it felt like the worst.  The argument had been terrible, Draco managed to shudder only mentally this time as he recalled what occurred earlier that evening...

     Draco had just gotten home that morning for the winter holiday.  Lucius had been "away", which his son correctly interpreted as having a meeting with Voldemort.  Narcissa was sitting in the parlor with him when his father finally returned and walked in with an uncharacteristically large smile on his face.  This worried Draco right away, for very few things made Lucius happy...and none of them were good.  The dark wizard took no notice of his wife but walked straight to Draco and exclaimed, "I have the most wonderful news!" 

His son remained aloof, "Yes, father?" 

"The Dark Lord has decided to get rid of that worthless rat Pettigrew and wants you, my son, to come into the inner circle sooner than planned and be his confidant."

Only years of practice allowed Draco to hide his shock and disgust, "How much sooner?"

His father explained excitedly, "Well, as you know, it was expected you would accept the dark mark when you turned eighteen.  However, He now wants it done six months from now, a little before your 17th.  During those months, you will be trained by both myself and the Dark Lord to prepare you", his eyes, if possible, sparkled, "Imagine all you'll learn, Draco."

The young man unconsciously gripped his chair tighter as he asked, "Why me?"

Lucius stated proudly, "He has heard of you often and certainly knows I have taught you well.  Also, he knows of your relationship with that Potter brat and how you have been doing your best to thwart him", his gaze faltered a little now, reminding Draco that his best just wasn't enough before continuing, "Besides, I am one of his most loyal followers."

"Then why not you?"  Draco didn't realize he had spoken the thought till his father's face twisted a little. 

His hard tone in answering showed it was obviously a bit of a sore subject with him, "He wants youth, I'm getting rather on in years.  I do not question my master, Draco, and you should learn to do the same."

He schooled his expression into one of apology, "Of course, father, I'm sorry."

Lucius nodded, satisfied, "At the next meeting, you will accompany me and express your gratitude at such an honor."

"Yes, father", he rose and began to leave.  Just as he reached the doorway though, his feet became planted to the floor.  He couldn't do this anymore!  He wouldn't!

~*I'm becoming this
All I want to do
Is be more like me
And be less like you*~

Turning, Draco looked his father in they eyes and stated clearly, "No."

Not much confused Lucius Malfoy, he was in control of his reactions at all times.  There were rumors he didn't even possess feelings.  But, his 16-yr-old son, whom he assumed would do as expected and obey, turning to him and saying "No" baffled him.

~*Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly*~

     His mouth opened a bit and then snapped back shut.  Draco would have found it amusing if he didn't fear for his life at the moment.  Finally Lucius regained his composure and glared at his son, "What exactly are you saying no to?"

"All of it!" Draco found himself yelling, self- control vanished, he had 16 years worth of anger to vent, "I don't want to be Voldemort's best friend!  I don't want the Dark Mark at all!  He disgusts me, it disgusts me and so do you!  I'm sick of listening to you, this is my life dammit!"

For the second time in a span of a few minutes, the grown wizard found himself stunned.  It was not a feeling Lucius much liked.  Evidence was found of this when he quickly strode across the room and backhanded his son, who slammed into the wall.

~*Afraid to lose control
'Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you*~

     Neither noticed Narcissa leave the room.  She wouldn't help Draco, she never did.  Lucius had turned her into a hollow, superficial mouse and she would spend the rest of the night crying behind the curtain in her bed for her and her son. 

Draco quickly got to his feet, he had expected the blow and would not give his father the pleasure of seeing him lying on the floor.  Unpleasant fear coursed through his veins but still he glared openly at Lucius.  Quidditch and the gene pool had given the teenager muscle and he really was quite strong, but he knew the older man would win in physical fighting.  Not that he thought that would last long, Lucius much preferred using spells than dirtying his own hands..."Coward!" his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.  He continued at the confusion on the other man's face, "You like to think you're so much better than everyone else, muggles, muggle borns, poorer wizards.  You're not!  They don't go see some half formed creature at night!  They don't place their families at risk for their own selfish gains!  I wonder, did your lord ever ask why you never went to Azkadan like his other 'most faithful' followers?  Face it, you would have been much happier if Voldemort had stayed gone and you could just sit around playing with dark curses!"  Even he didn't know he felt all that until it all came tumbling out.

Lucius whipped out his wand and threw Draco against the wall again with it, pinning him there, "Been spending too much time around perfect Potter, have you?"  His voice was full of venom and repulsion.

Draco felt as though he could feel the explosion inside his father and knew now was the pivotal moment.  He could break down, apologize, beg, whatever, and get off with a limited amount of pain... or he could finish what he started.  There wasn't even a decision.  He stared into eyes that were so much like his, yet so different, and said what he knew would seal his fate, "I would rather be like Potter than you... all you have is some overrated blood." 

He barely even heard the shout, "Crucio!" before he was writhing on the floor in agony.  Of course it wasn't the first, or even fifth, time it had been used on him, but it was as if his father's intense anger made it worse.  Needles were poking, knives were slicing, muscles were twisting, every organ felt as though it were exploding.  Open wounds broke through pure white skin.  Black and blue marred ivory flesh.  Biting his lip only kept the screams in so long and soon Narcissa was burying her head in the pillow to block out her child's cries.  It went on longer than it ever had before, and Draco's last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was that Lucius' goal was death. 

An undeterminable amount of time later, he was awakened by a sharp kick in the stomach.  When he looked up, his father was standing above him.  Hoarsely Draco asked, "Am I in hell?" 

Lucius laughed cruelly, "You're not dead, boy.  I told you, Voldemort wants you.  And you will go to him, I'll not have you shame this family anymore!  I don't know why I am cursed with such a useless disappointment such as yourself, but I won't suffer because of you.  Learn your place, or tonight will pale in comparison to the consequences you'll face."

~*[Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow]
Every step that I take is
Another mistake to you*~

 Not waiting for a reaction, he levitated his son and brought him up to his room, not particularly watching what the floating body hit.  Upstairs, he roughly dropped hovering boy on the bed and left without a word, locking the door behind him....

"Idiot", Draco muttered to his picture counterpart, "You really thought that would end well?  All you've got now is a battered body and a pissed off father", he sighed, "And you're talking to yourself." 

~*[Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow]
And every second I waste
Is more than I can take*~

     Thinking about it, he really had no idea why he had made that deadly statement.  Yeah, in the beginning, he had thought it was pretty great to be rich and have such a powerful father, to order people around.  After time, though, it got old.  Money and terror gave him Crabbe and Goyle, but they were bodyguards, not friends.  His mother was lifeless and his father would kill him in a second if Voldemort ordered it.  Draco became aware that he was completely alone, and that was scary.  Scary enough to make him stand up to his worst nightmare. 

     However, regardless of how he felt about being a death-eater, he still wasn't the nicest of guys.  He simply didn't want to be following orders from some crackpot.  Also, he had to admit, hurting people to the extent that they did wasn't his style.  If he was being totally honest, he didn't want to look around one day in the future and find himself as his father, with a wife that barely spoke, a son who hated him and no true friends. 

~*But I know
I may end up falling too*~

     In any case, he still didn't like Potter.  Not because he defeated Voldemort or because he liked muggles... he just didn't like him.  Didn't like how he walked around and everyone bowed down, even though Draco confessed, he didn't like the attention.  Potter was simply too... perfect for him, much as he hated using his father's description.  Potter was... pain pushed away the rest of the thought as he brought the picture to the other hand.  Even if he just lied there, every part of his body was engulfed in torment.  He desperately prayed to a god he didn't believe existed to let him fall into comforting darkness and escape the torture. 

     He stared at his father once again, trying to find something, anything alive in him... but there was only an empty, chilling hole.  Ever since he could remember, Draco had wanted his father to be proud of him, to thank fate, instead of damning it, for having him as a son.  He did all he could think of: he hated "mudbloods", sneered at those "below them", remained cool in the face of anything and worked to maintain the prestige of the Malfoy name.  Still, as loathing thrived in him, somewhere inside there was the little boy who just wanted a father who didn't hate him.  But, it was never enough and, he realized, it would never be enough.

The picture seemed to taunt him, having them right next to each other, displaying similarities for everyone to see.  Father and son, exactly alike but for the length of their hair...glass shards went flying as the expensive silver frame knocked against the wall.

~*But I know
You were just like me
With someone disappointed in you*~

Gritting his teeth against the ache that such a sharp movement had caused, Draco glowered at the photograph on the floor and promised, "I'll never be you".