Warning: Light violence, abuse, light swearing, maybe unclear ages, and an attempt at a sort-of sociopathic Lucius Malfoy.

I have no emotion. It's a blank in my mind.

- Chris Harrington

When he was only seven years old, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy watched his mother die. He stood, as he remembered quite vividly, on the top of the Manor's staircase while his father- one Abraxas Malfoy- brutally strangled his mother's pale, slender throat and brought a blow that was worthy of any assailant in Knockturn Alley down upon the blonde crown of her skull. In a sense, Lucius thought, in his primitive and childish mind, it was almost beautiful. Poetic, he'd describe it now. His father was an old sod, a beast dwelling within a fragile body, and his mother was a young and graceful swan who needed to be set free. Only by his father's crushing hand around her windpipe and a severe cranial fracture could she be released from her prison torment in Malfoy Manor. Lucius stared, the childish gleam he once had in his eyes- and that had been dying over his mere seven years of living- reduced to nothing but grey slates. Vaguely, the child even realized there was a pounding in his chest, despite him feeling absolutely nothing for neither his mother, who laid on the dark carpet of the Main Hall with her blonde hair surrounding her head like a halo, nor his father, who spat at her and yelled at her still, despite her being dead, like a crazy old dragon who'd spent too long caged up.

It wasn't until his father turned his sadistic glare towards Lucius that the boy really felt anything besides his own shocking emptiness.

Lucius spent the next 24 hours locked up in his own bedroom with his father scratching at the door, demanding him to be let in. Lucius realized, even in his autopilot state, that his father could have simply used a wand to burst down the door, or even set it aflame. He also realized that no help was coming, and that he'd be alone for quite some time from now on. He forgot about his own emotions, his fear, his anger, and set them aside- he was to raise himself now, and if his father wanted to hurt him, well, Lucius'd have to hurt him right back.

It wasn't until the scratching and the insults from outside of his bedroom ceased that Lucius left. Only the house elves noticed the change in the young master. He felt nothing any longer.

Dumbledore had pulled Lucius aside on the first day of his sixth year, when he had been made Slytherin Prefect. The boy didn't know why the coot made him the Prefect- Lucius knew he reveled in power, and strived for greatness, but he hadn't actually expected the Headmaster to feed these ideals.

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, Lucius thought that Dumbledore did it to try to persuade him to follow a path that wouldn't lead to destruction.

Lucius thought that was preposterous. What was the fun in being good? Perhaps destruction was what he wanted. Maybe then he'd actually feel something.

Lucius was extremely interested in the Dark Arts, and Voldemort's rise, along with the Muggle and Mudblood murders that were being talked about in the Daily Prophet, peaked Lucius' interests- he wanted to join. He wanted to join so badly, despite his emotions not expressing so. Lucius realized what desire was, but he still couldn't figure out why he couldn't feel anything similar to it.

Dumbledore had asked him to come to his office late on the first day, and invited him to sit down and 'talk' about 'his duties'- which Lucius immediately knew was a farce, as no other Prefect would have been forced to suffer through an audience with the old fool. Because Lucius was an obedient child- thanks to his father beating that in him- he still went.

He suspected, if he could feel it, he'd have felt fear.

He was ushered into Dumbledore's office and sat down by automatic movements and absent-mindedness, seeing the smile on the Headmaster's face doing absolutely nothing to reassure him. Lucius, however, immediately noticed the gleam in his eyes wasnt present, and instead was replaced with an unknown and unreadable emotion.

"My dear boy," Dumbledore started, causing Lucius to quirk his head ever so slightly to the side, his face an impassive, stony expression, "I want to know that I brought you here to fully explain why I made you a Prefect. Not that I don't underestimate your abilities to lead the school- you lead your House extremely well, and of that, I am pleased. However... In all honesty, I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried about you."

"Worried about me, sir?" Lucius murmured, echoing Dumbledore's tone without having to conjure one of his own.

"Yes. I'm worried about your home life. I have heard stories, as I'm sure everyone has, about your father and what happened to your mother. Your father..." Dumbledore hesitated before continuing, "Does your father hurt you, Lucius?"

"No." The boy replied immediately. Dumbledore didn't need to know anything. Hurt him? Well... Of course Abraxas hurt him. Verbally was his usual, go-to modus operandi- he threw insults at Lucius like dragon-fire. Every chance he had: if Lucius stepped one toe out of line, if Lucius behaved like an improper pureblood, if Lucius showed anything that resembled emotion, Abraxas would yell and scream and lock himself in his private study nursing a bottle of firewhiskey until he was drunk enough to come out and hurl either curses or unleash blows from his cane upon his only son.

Never once had Abraxas said he loved him, never once had he said he was proud of him and never once had he paid Lucius any compliment.

Dumbledore's eyes betrayed him, showing that he really didn't believe in Lucius' statement, "Are you sure, my boy?"

Lucius bristled, his eyes narrowing, "Are you suggesting that I'm lying?" He was, of course. Lucius lied on a daily basis. His entire person at Hogwarts, his reputation, his friends (if he really could call them that) were based on lies. Not that Lucius really minded, of course. Lying was second nature to him.

"No, of course not." Dumbledore relented.

Lucius made to get up but Dumbledore motioned for him to stay for a bit longer.

"If you ever need to talk someone, Mr Malfoy, please, do not hesitate to come here." The Headmaster said, "I know how crucial these years are in a young boy's life, and I hope that I succeed in giving you a start down the right path."

Lucius didn't reply, and instead stood up, nodded briefly and escaped out into the hallways of the school. His head was buzzing- the Headmaster was concerned for him? The Headmaster was concerned for anyone who attended this God forsaken school. Why would he pick HIM out of the entire population of young wizards in Britain? What did he want?

Lucius, not for the first time in his life, felt rather helpless. He strode as confidently as he allowed himself to the boy's bathroom nearest to Dumbledore's office. Making sure it was empty and that the door was locked, he sunk down to the floor and ran his hands through his hair.

Lucius decided he didn't like feeling helpless. Not one bit.

When Lucius found out he was accepted into Hogwarts, he was surprised. He figured his father wouldn't let him go, but being the scum of pureblood society and a recluse, keeping both he and his son locked away in Malfoy Manor was just too much for Abraxas, it seemed. So when Lucius got his letter, his father simply waved his hand and a pouch of gold coins appeared on the table beside him. Lucius took this to mean 'go pick up your supplies (only the best will do'.

Lucius stared at his father oddly and said, "Thank you, sir," the best his surprise would allow him. Abraxas simply nodded and stood up with some difficulty from the couch, grasping Lucius' bicep rather tightly before apparating them both to Diagon Alley.

Lucius realized, then, why his father never left his house.

Upon seeing the pair of Malfoys, almost all of the competent wizards and witches left a wide birth around the seething and intimidating form of Abraxas and the stony figure of his son.

Lucius wished he had gone himself, but he assumed his father didn't want to risk his reputation and the family name by sending his son to take the train like muggles.

"Come," Abraxas barked, and those who overheard flinched as Lucius fell into step at his place behind his father. Abraxas was rather slow, and relied much on his cane to walk around, forcing Lucius to stop occasionally while his father regained his footing or figured out his destination.

Lucius didn't mind being the center of attention, but he quite minded being seen with his deplorable father. It hit the boy like a storm, the seething hatred for his father- something that would fester in his chest and in the back of his mind for many years to come.

Bellatrix Black remembered first meeting Lucius Malfoy. She never liked him, much, as he was (and still is) a stuck up and arrogant prat, but seeing him for the first time in Diagon Alley following his father like a punished dog, she almost felt pity.

Immediately, she knew who they were. Abraxas Malfoy was a pariah- elderly, with silver flecked white-blonde hair, a hooked nose and a hunchback from years of using his cane. He was dressed in the finest clothes, but still managed to make them look sloppy and unkempt. He was talked about, often, in pureblood circles- the heir to the finest of fortunes, an estate worthy of a king, and still managed to do nothing with his life but drink himself into a stupor and occasionally show at balls or parties simply to make an appearance so everyone would know he wasn't dead.

His son was another matter entirely. Bellatrix remembered looking into the grey eyes of Lucius and noticing nothing. He was soulless, the girl determined, completely soulless. She couldn't blame him though. The way he stood behind his father, his fingers twitching in reflexive nervousness despite being dressed to the nines and having a confident and immovable expression on his face. The two were identical, which Bellatrix figured didn't help much. She knew- she felt, more like, that Lucius hated his father. Having Abraxas' cruel and cold looks probably didn't help much.

"Oh, what is he doing out?" Bellatrix heard her mother, Druella, choke, and watched as her hand clenched and her face turned dark, "That poor boy- he's nothing but... But a servant to Abraxas."

"Perhaps you could guide him away," Cygnus, her father, suggested, "We could take the boy shopping with us. It would only be fair. If Lucius didn't have him as a father, I'm sure the Malfoy name would be revered, much like ours."

"So the boy could return to his father being drunk out of his mind? I'd rather-" Druella stopped and shook her head, "No, you go talk to Abraxas, dear, and I'll pull Lucius away."

Bellatrix scrunched up her face and followed her mother towards the strange boy and his outcast of a father. Abraxas had eyed Druella and Cygnus, ignoring Bellatrix completely. The girl, however, noticed how Malfoy Sr eyed her mother, his eyes tracing her curves and his mouth twisting upwards into a sneer. Bellatrix felt disgusted, and she caught Lucius' eyes, noticing he felt similarly.

"Abraxas!" Cygnus greeted, his polite and content tone completely forced as the old man ignored the Black patriarch's greeting, instead focusing in on Druella.

"Black." Abraxas replied, his tone disinterested.

"Father," Lucius muttered lowly, playing with the hem of his button down shirt, "W-would I be able to go and get my books now, please?"

"No." Abraxas replied, his head turning towards Lucius, who blanched, "You'll wait right here like a good boy."

Lucius, Bellatrix noticed, had to bite his cheek to keep from saying anything farther.

"It's… Nice to see you out." Cygnus continued, as if the outburst didn't happen, "We were wondering, ah, that is, Druella and I were wondering if Lucius'd like to come shopping with us. Bella's his age, and they're both starting Hogwarts, and it would be nice for him to know someone going in. Particularly if they'll be in the same house."

"They will." Abraxas sneered, "Unless your little doll will wind up being in anything but Slytherin."

"Father." Lucius hissed, seemingly regaining his voice. Abraxas whirled around and smacked his son across his cheek, causing Lucius to stumble backwards and fall down, letting out a harsh cry.

"Do not speak out of turn!" His father roared, before returning to glare at Cygnus. Many of the individuals watching gasped, and some of the mothers with their children made to go help the Malfoy boy up, but their husbands, smartly, held them back.

Bellatrix, instead, went over to him and stuck her hand out. Lucius, holding his cheek that was blossoming into red, stared at her hand incredulously.

"Well?" She asked impatiently, "Are you going to make me stand here forever or do you actually want to get up, you prat?"

"I don't need your help!" Lucius yelled, suddenly, and pushed her hand away. He turned away from his father and the Blacks, running out into the throngs of people who had witnessed the goings on between the two Malfoys.

Bellatrix stared after him, stunned. It was then, despite her pity, she realized they wouldn't get along.

"Did your father beat you?" Bellatrix asked.

They were on the train to Hogwarts now, and Lucius had moodily chosen his own compartment to sit in, expecting no one to join in with him. His knees were pulled up to his chin and he stared out the window at the passing grass and plains. When Bellatrix had opened the compartment with two other boys standing behind her, Lucius narrowed his eyes and glared at her, but didn't say anything.

"Did he beat you?" She asked again, her lips turning upwards into a smirk, "Poor little Lucy, can't take care of himself."

"Shut up." Lucius replied, "My father doesn't beat me."

"Bullshit!" Bellatrix placed her hands on her hips and entered the compartment, "I was there, Lucy. I watched the entire thing," her voice was proud, and Lucius frowned even more, "He smacked you, I offer to help you, and you scream and run away like some child!"

Lucius felt his emotions drain from his face and his mind go blank, "SHUT UP!" He roared, jumping up from his seat and tackling the Black girl to the floor of the hallway in the train. Bellatrix squirmed underneath him and Lucius whipped out his wand, jutting it in her chin, "You don't know anything!"

Bellatrix surprised him by laughing.

"What?" He grit out, shoving the pointed tip of his wand farther into her chin.

"What are you gonna do to me, Lucy?" She asked mockingly, "What spells have you learnt? Jelly-legs jinx?"

Lucius felt white-hot rage rush into his head and he pulled his casting arm backwards to yell out some spell (and in hindsight, he wasn't even quite sure what he wanted to yell out) before a pair of arms lifted him up and another body stepped in front of him.

"What the hell is going on here?" The body in front of him asked. Lucius took note of the yellow and red tie and the silver Prefect badge. Lucius looked up and saw the face of a rather pretty girl, with short brown hair and a look of disbelief on her face.

"Nothing." Lucius grumbled, and once again tried to pull himself out of the grip he was in. The boys behind Bellatrix, who had originally backed up and ran to go call help from the nearest source of power they could find, had now helped the Black girl stand up.

The Prefect turned to look at Bellatrix, who had smoothed her robes and her wild, black hair, "Nothing, ma'am. Lucius tripped."

Lucius felt his face turn red as the grip on him ceased. He pulled away from the boy (also Gryffindor and also Prefect) and stormed back into his compartment.

"Fine. I expect to see nothing like this ever again." The girl hissed, evidently not believing what Bellatrix had said, "Come on, Frank."

Bellatrix and her cohorts waited until the two had left before entering Lucius' cabin one more time. Lucius turned to look at them and said, unnervingly, emotionlessly, "Get out, now."

Bellatrix, despite feeling uncomfortable at his tone, sat across from him, "Lucius, would you like to be friends?"

"Why?" He asked, his face showing his confusion, but only slightly.

"Because you had the guts to hurt me before we'd even gone to Hogwarts. I think you're interesting. Don't get me wrong, you're a prat, but that takes some gumption." Bellatrix smiled. She motioned to the boys sitting beside her, "This is Evan Rosier and Rodolphous Lestrange. They're both in Second Year."

Lucius couldn't have looked less interested if he tried, "Yes, well, hi." He greeted, or attempted to.

Rodolphous Lestrange had eyed him funnily and tilted his head before sticking his hand out to the Malfoy boy, "Abraxas' kid, eh? Look just like him."

Lucius didn't reply, and instead gripped Rodolphous' hand in an infuriatingly strong clasp. Rodolphous got his hand back, discreetly rubbing his crunched joints.

Evan seemed uncomfortable around him. Lucius almost laughed at that, if he had found it at all humorous.

"I think we'll get along fine." Bellatrix mused aloud, and Lucius couldn't help but desire to have her leave his life forever.

When the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, Lucius once again felt his mind go blank. He didn't know if it was some sort of defence mechanism, or if he just really didn't have anything to think about except for his automatic nervous functions. The Sorting Hat, in all of its omnipotent glory, pushed itself into Lucius' mind and dug about as if it were looking for some excuse as to put him in any other House than he thought he'd belonged to.

"A Malfoy." The Hat mused, instead, and Lucius bristled. He heard the Hat chuckle in his head and continue, "We haven't had a Malfoy here for a long time. Last one was your father… And how old is he, now? Sixty?"

"Sixty-five," Lucius murmured.

"And how old was your mum? Nineteen, when she married him, wasn't it?" The Hat mused.

"I don't see what this has to do with anything." Lucius replied.

"Both of them were in Slytherin, of course," the Hat continued on as if Lucius hadn't said anything, "And now there's you. You're slimy, you are, and conniving. Ambitious. Dedicated. All of the traits of a perfect Slytherin."

"So just put me in there," Lucius hissed.

"You desire power… You desire power over your father, Lucius." The Hat whispered, before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!" And Lucius ripped it off his head and stormed over to the table that was clapping and cheering at his sorting.

Lucius sat in the bathroom, his hands running through his hair and his eyes bleary from his turmoil.

"What is wrong with me?" He asked himself. He wanted to talk to someone, he did, he desired for someone to sit him down and rub his back as he hypothetically cried out his fears and his emotions that he didn't have or didn't feel. He wanted to yell, or act out, but he knew he'd get home and his father would beat him. He wanted to tell Dumbledore everything, but when he was faced with the possibility of showing weakness, he just couldn't admit anything his father had done to him.

"I hate him," Lucius whispered, placing his head in his hands.

But he and his father, they were so much alike.

"I brought you here because I thought you were strong, boy!"

"You're nothing but a weakling!"

"A Malfoy!"

"Crucio!"

Lucius felt pain jolt through his body and he screamed, clutching at his sides as he laid on the unforgiving floor of the dungeons Merlin knew where. He felt pressure behind his eyes, as if they were going to give out or explode, along with his brain. He felt blood pour from his nose, and he kept screaming until he tasted copper in his mouth and he vaguely realized that the curse had been lifted.

Faintly, fingertips danced along his chin and suddenly he was forced into a kneeling position in front of the Dark Lord. Red eyes stared at him from an inhuman face, and Lucius tentatively lifted a hand to wipe the blood that had spurted from his nose and dribbled down his chin away from his face and onto his sleeve.

"What have you to say for yourself, Lucius?" Voldemort asked.

"I have nothing to say," Lucius whispered, "I'm weak."

"Yes," Voldemort cackled, "You're weak. You're a boy. Why do you want to join this order? Why do you want to join this cause?"

"B-because…" Lucius choked and spat out some blood that must have come from his tongue when he was being Crucio'd, "I want to feel something, my Lord. I don't want to be weak anymore. I will do anything you ask, I will kill whomever you wish. I want to feel anything."

Voldemort looked upon him with mild interest, "Is that so?"

"Yes." Lucius looked up at the Dark Lord and nodded firmly, despite the blood staining his pale skin and the matting in his shoulder length hair and the fact that he looked weak and he despised himself, "I will do anything."

"Such a strange request," Voldemort mused, looking over at his Death Eaters, his followers, and smiled a cold and cruel smile, "He wants to join us so he can feel."

Some of the Death Eaters chuckled. Some nodded. Some actually cheered for Lucius, a silent vouch for the seventeen year old boy who was kneeling broken and bloody in front of all of them.

"Stick out your arm." Voldemort said, his voice chilling. Lucius immediately obliged, pushing up his sleeve and sticking his left arm out towards the Dark Lord. Voldemort stuck out his wand and Lucius stifled another yelp of pain as black ooze pushed its way under his skin and…

It was over as quickly as it started.

Lucius looked down at his arm and across his face spread a twisted grin.

Narcissa Black remembered the first time she met Lucius Malfoy. Well, Narcissa didn't meet him for the first time at Hogwarts- she'd been pining over him from afar at every ball or party that the pureblood social group set up. He was, in her eyes, beautiful, and, according to Bellatrix, completely evil.

Narcissa didn't doubt it. His eyes, although glorious, were blank and emotionless. She'd seen him more than once completely lose it on innocent students, and pick them up by their collars and slam them against the stony walls of Hogwarts, his wand pressed into their throat and his handsome face twisted up into a horrible snarl.

She wanted absolutely nothing more than to wrap her delicate arms around him and kiss him senseless.

Of course, at this point in time, she was eleven, and he was seventeen. He also, as if he wasn't before, completely detached from the rest of society.

Narcissa had heard stories, of course, about his abusive father. He had died, not a few weeks ago, and Lucius had been the only witness and also the only individual at his funeral. She wondered if he murdered Abraxas. She wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Bellatrix had told her, when Narcissa confided in her about her senseless crush, "Cissy, you better stay away from him. Just because I hang out with him- and that is because I can handle him- doesn't mean you should. He's dangerous! He's absolutely nuts!"

Narcissa didn't necessarily believe her, but she always did feel slightly uncomfortable around him.

It didn't matter though, because every time he brushed past her, or every time she caught his eyes, her heart pounded in her chest and her breath was taken away.

She was smitten.

When Narcissa Black was seventeen, and Lucius Malfoy was 23, they had experienced their first kiss together.

Narcissa, who was so hopelessly in love with Lucius, was beyond elated. Lucius, who had almost no emotions whatsoever, felt something like love.

"I've been waiting for you to kiss me for so long," Narcissa whispered, a huge and beautifully innocent smile on her face.

Lucius replied by kissing her again.

(Most would have said it was about time, but not Bellatrix.)

The moment was ruined though, by a sharp pain on Lucius' arm and his sudden disapparation. Narcissa was left, confused, and staring at the spot he had occupied not a minute ago.

"Wow." She giggled.

Lucius, meanwhile, had apparated into the middle of a field. Beside him stood Rodolphous Lestrange, the boy he had met so long ago and eventually became quite good friends with him- of course, Lucius didn't say he had friends. Rodolphous did, however, quite like Lucius' company.

"Why was I apparated here?" Lucius asked.

Rodolphous looked at him, amused, "Why do you think?"

"Muggles?"

"No, blood-traitors." Rodolphous spat, taking a drag from a cigarette he held between his fingers.

"Mm." Lucius murmured, "Who?"

"Gideon and Fabian Prewett." Rodolphous replied, "You're distracted. What are you thinking about?"

"Narcissa Black." Lucius admitted, "She kissed me, today."

Rodolphous blanched and then let out a loud burst of laughter, "That girl? My wife's sister?"

Lucius nodded, not showing any emotion.

"You know, I think I believe what Bella says, now. You are nuts." Rodolphous punched Lucius' arm jovially, and Lucius pushed him back, slightly annoyed.

"It's not my fault," Lucius said, "that my father was an ass."

"Whatever," Rodolphous scoffed, "I don't feel like having a deep conversation while I'm sober. Let's go torture some blood-traitors."

"Crucio!" Lucius yelled, watching Gideon Prewett fall to the ground, crying and screaming for mercy.

He felt nothing.

Instead, he thought that it would be rather nice to take Narcissa out for supper.