A/N: I know these Draco and Lucius fics are out of style, but I don't care, It's my favorite form
of angst.
FATHER
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Huddling in a cold, damp, and dark cell, a seemingly small boy, who was actually 16 years of age, lie, covered in filthy, blood coated and torn robes. A small brown rat ran by his head, the silver hared boy didn't care, he was actually thinking it might taste nicely, a bit of substance, even if it would be raw, still...
The doors to the dungeon swung open, filling the room with a blinding light, A man, who looked much a mirror if himself walked in, holding a fine leather whip in hand. Draco flinched as he thought of what was in store, the man towering above him swung the whip down, but stopped in midair, then drew back again. Draco tensed waiting for the blow, again, the whip came down, and the man above stumbled, and let out a malicious cry. Finally, the whip came down, with every once of strength imaginable behind it, and connected harshly with the boy's fair flesh, spilling more crimson blood down the already mangled robes. Over and over the whip fell across his back, over and over he refused to scream. Finally, it stopped. Lucius turned to leave, but suddenly turned around and cried "Crucio!" the proceeded out the door.
White hot pain filled his entire body, nerves split and his skin felt as if it where melting off his body, his hair turned red from the blood leaking through his scalp and blood ran from under his fingernails. His bones felt as if they where each being individually smashed into thousands of pieces, and the fragments of bone where sticking through his skin. His veins where about to split open, and his artery's where sinking in on themselves for lack of blood.
Then, it all stopped.
His mother was standing in the doorway, holding silk robes. She leaned down to help him up, he took her hand and followed her to the master bathroom, where the tap was running hot water. Narcissa left Draco alone to bathe and walked down the hallways to her husbands room. Seeing him at his desk, she spoke softly "Lucius," he looked up "I really wish you wouldn't do such things to the boy, he is only a child after all." He looked at her and asked "Do you really think you know what's better for my son than I do?" Narcissa looked at the floor avoiding his harsh stare "Well," he continued "You certainly don't know what's better for yourself." Without another word he pulled out his wand and stuttered the words "A Aved Aveda Kad Kadarva."
Draco walked in just in time to see his mother fall, with simple and utter hatred in his voice he whispered "What have you done to her?" Lucius stood silently as Draco leaned down and kissed his mother, then stood up and walked down the hall.
Draco sat down in a black velvet chair and stared out his window into the starry night sky. Orion was rising high above the horizon, he didn't care, it was winter, cold and heartless, perfect...
Lucius sat back down at his chair, the body of his dead wife laying across the threshold of the study. "I can't believe I just did that..." he thought to himself "Damn you Voldemort." Then he flew into spasms of all-consuming, white-hot pain, and a ghostly voice said "It does one well not to speak ill of their master." The pain stopped an Lucius, still shaking, turned back to his work.
Draco walked into the room where his father was bent over his desk reading a book on the
spells from Dark Lords past. Fingering his silver knife, the one with the dragon figure draped
over the hilt and little emeralds for eyes, the eyes so deep and dark, revealing all of the secrets of
the universe, so unlike his own eyes, his eyes where a reflective surface, showing nothing. If Draco's father was aware that his son was in the same room, he didn't show it, so intent on his studying.
Draco stepped closer, holding his knife at a slightly raised position, right beside his father now,
moving quickly, he thrust the knife deep into his back, catching his fathers chest with his other
hand. Laughing maliciously, he said "You've killed my spirit, my childhood, my future, add now you will die at the hands of the very thing you have destroyed.... Goodbye
Father." Draco released his father and watched coldly has he fell to the floor, Draco moved over
to his not yet dead side and stared deep into his eyes, as if trying to find an explanation for his past. The steel-gray surfaces suddenly rippled, Draco thought it was just a hallucination, but they did it again, Draco kneeled down and stared deeper into his fathers eyes, vaguely aware of the choppy, uneven breathing. He became absorbed in a small scene playing back in his fathers pupils, he saw a rather dark and evil man, standing erect, while a circle of other men bowed down before
him, in the middle of the circle another man was bowed at the mans feet. Words where being
said, but he couldn't make any of them out, except for one. "Imperio." Shouted the man
towering above all the others, pointing at the person who was now standing facing his lord.
"Go." He hissed. "Yes Lord Voldemort." The servant replied in a monotone voice. The man
turned around and stepped out of the circle, as the light shed across his fair silver hair, Draco
could see a man, looking like an only slightly younger version of the one that lay in front of him.
Watching the his father's ghostly younger self move across the black pupil, he saw him apparate
into the Malfoy Manor, and walk at an uneven pace down to the dungeons. Opening one of the
cells, Lucius' ghost grabbed a whip that was laying outside and walked into the dimly lit cell.
Draco could see himself, curled up in the cell, much as he had been only days ago, he watched as
his father, acting under Voldemorts curse, trying to keep his arm from brandishing the whip
across his cowering son, over and over again, he tried to bring the whip down, but only got half-
way down, before he stumbled and let out a cry. "He's fighting it." Draco whispered "He's
fighting the curse." Finally, Lucius gave and the whip snapped against the flesh of his son. Then
everything went blank, and Draco was left staring into the cold silver eyes again, Lucius' chest
fell, then didn't rise again. Draco stood up, knife in hand and calmly walked away from the body
of his father.
A/N: That was a bit of a different Draco than I usually portray, he's colder, a bit harder.
Review Please
of angst.
FATHER
********************************************************************************
Huddling in a cold, damp, and dark cell, a seemingly small boy, who was actually 16 years of age, lie, covered in filthy, blood coated and torn robes. A small brown rat ran by his head, the silver hared boy didn't care, he was actually thinking it might taste nicely, a bit of substance, even if it would be raw, still...
The doors to the dungeon swung open, filling the room with a blinding light, A man, who looked much a mirror if himself walked in, holding a fine leather whip in hand. Draco flinched as he thought of what was in store, the man towering above him swung the whip down, but stopped in midair, then drew back again. Draco tensed waiting for the blow, again, the whip came down, and the man above stumbled, and let out a malicious cry. Finally, the whip came down, with every once of strength imaginable behind it, and connected harshly with the boy's fair flesh, spilling more crimson blood down the already mangled robes. Over and over the whip fell across his back, over and over he refused to scream. Finally, it stopped. Lucius turned to leave, but suddenly turned around and cried "Crucio!" the proceeded out the door.
White hot pain filled his entire body, nerves split and his skin felt as if it where melting off his body, his hair turned red from the blood leaking through his scalp and blood ran from under his fingernails. His bones felt as if they where each being individually smashed into thousands of pieces, and the fragments of bone where sticking through his skin. His veins where about to split open, and his artery's where sinking in on themselves for lack of blood.
Then, it all stopped.
His mother was standing in the doorway, holding silk robes. She leaned down to help him up, he took her hand and followed her to the master bathroom, where the tap was running hot water. Narcissa left Draco alone to bathe and walked down the hallways to her husbands room. Seeing him at his desk, she spoke softly "Lucius," he looked up "I really wish you wouldn't do such things to the boy, he is only a child after all." He looked at her and asked "Do you really think you know what's better for my son than I do?" Narcissa looked at the floor avoiding his harsh stare "Well," he continued "You certainly don't know what's better for yourself." Without another word he pulled out his wand and stuttered the words "A Aved Aveda Kad Kadarva."
Draco walked in just in time to see his mother fall, with simple and utter hatred in his voice he whispered "What have you done to her?" Lucius stood silently as Draco leaned down and kissed his mother, then stood up and walked down the hall.
Draco sat down in a black velvet chair and stared out his window into the starry night sky. Orion was rising high above the horizon, he didn't care, it was winter, cold and heartless, perfect...
Lucius sat back down at his chair, the body of his dead wife laying across the threshold of the study. "I can't believe I just did that..." he thought to himself "Damn you Voldemort." Then he flew into spasms of all-consuming, white-hot pain, and a ghostly voice said "It does one well not to speak ill of their master." The pain stopped an Lucius, still shaking, turned back to his work.
Draco walked into the room where his father was bent over his desk reading a book on the
spells from Dark Lords past. Fingering his silver knife, the one with the dragon figure draped
over the hilt and little emeralds for eyes, the eyes so deep and dark, revealing all of the secrets of
the universe, so unlike his own eyes, his eyes where a reflective surface, showing nothing. If Draco's father was aware that his son was in the same room, he didn't show it, so intent on his studying.
Draco stepped closer, holding his knife at a slightly raised position, right beside his father now,
moving quickly, he thrust the knife deep into his back, catching his fathers chest with his other
hand. Laughing maliciously, he said "You've killed my spirit, my childhood, my future, add now you will die at the hands of the very thing you have destroyed.... Goodbye
Father." Draco released his father and watched coldly has he fell to the floor, Draco moved over
to his not yet dead side and stared deep into his eyes, as if trying to find an explanation for his past. The steel-gray surfaces suddenly rippled, Draco thought it was just a hallucination, but they did it again, Draco kneeled down and stared deeper into his fathers eyes, vaguely aware of the choppy, uneven breathing. He became absorbed in a small scene playing back in his fathers pupils, he saw a rather dark and evil man, standing erect, while a circle of other men bowed down before
him, in the middle of the circle another man was bowed at the mans feet. Words where being
said, but he couldn't make any of them out, except for one. "Imperio." Shouted the man
towering above all the others, pointing at the person who was now standing facing his lord.
"Go." He hissed. "Yes Lord Voldemort." The servant replied in a monotone voice. The man
turned around and stepped out of the circle, as the light shed across his fair silver hair, Draco
could see a man, looking like an only slightly younger version of the one that lay in front of him.
Watching the his father's ghostly younger self move across the black pupil, he saw him apparate
into the Malfoy Manor, and walk at an uneven pace down to the dungeons. Opening one of the
cells, Lucius' ghost grabbed a whip that was laying outside and walked into the dimly lit cell.
Draco could see himself, curled up in the cell, much as he had been only days ago, he watched as
his father, acting under Voldemorts curse, trying to keep his arm from brandishing the whip
across his cowering son, over and over again, he tried to bring the whip down, but only got half-
way down, before he stumbled and let out a cry. "He's fighting it." Draco whispered "He's
fighting the curse." Finally, Lucius gave and the whip snapped against the flesh of his son. Then
everything went blank, and Draco was left staring into the cold silver eyes again, Lucius' chest
fell, then didn't rise again. Draco stood up, knife in hand and calmly walked away from the body
of his father.
A/N: That was a bit of a different Draco than I usually portray, he's colder, a bit harder.
Review Please