Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot.

Author's Note: Well hello there!! This is my first Harry Potter fic. It deals with abuse, slight profanity, and later on, suicide. Please read and let me know what you think!!!!!


The Pain Within
Chapter 1: The Past




September 22, 1987

Lucius Malfoy paced back and forth in the small waiting room, wearing the carpet thin. His best friend Severus sat in a chair with an amused expression on his normally blank face. Lucius kept muttering incoherent words to himself and his hands were wrung nervously by his sides.

Luke, everything's going to turn out fine. Calm down, you're a bloody wreck!

The blond man glared at his friend. Then why the hell is it taking so long?

Severus opened his mouth to say something in return, but a lanky nurse entered the room, looking at the two men.

Mr. Malfoy? You can come see your wife now. And, she smiled, beautiful baby boy.

Lucius's face broke out into a boyish grin and he shot Severus an excited glance as he followed the nurse through the door. They traveled down a corridor full of sounds of wailing babies and cries of pain and joy before stopping at Room 308.

Here you go, sir, the nurse said before leaving to tend to other patients.

Narcissa Malfoy sat comfortably in a large white hospital bed. She rocked a slightly squirming blanket until it stopped moving in her arms. Upon her husband's entrance she lifted her head. She looked worn out and tired, caramel colored hair plastered to her forehead by sweat, but her face radiated with happiness.

Lukey, look, he was worth the lengthy labor. He's absolutely gorgeous!

Lucius took a step forward and peeked into the bundle. His breath caught in his throat. Normally, nothing too complimentary can be said about a newborn - they usually resembled pink wrinkly dolls covered in blood. But this baby - HIS son - was an immaculate angel. He couldn't recall a time when he felt as proud or spellbound as he did now gazing at his child. He forgot the world around him - who he was, what he was, his associations, his wealth, his ENTIRE LIFE - as he was mesmerized by the small bundle in front of him. The pale, snow white skin; the perfectly shaped tiny nose; the tuft of wispy blond hair that had gently been smoothed back; the small, pink mouth; and the blond eyelashes that laid peacefully against rosy cheeks while the baby slept.

What'll we name him? Narcissa asked.

Lucius's head snapped up, eyes still full of amazement and reverie. Draco. It means dragon' in Latin.

Narcissa nodded in approval, while the baby in her arms began to stir. He sighed before finally opening his eyes. He moved his head and stared up at his father. Lucius found himself staring back into two of the clearest blue eyes he had ever encountered. The baby reached a tiny hand upward. Lucius's eyes widened, and overcome with emotion, brought a large finger down to the outstretched hand. Five tiny fingers latched on to it immediately.

Welcome to the world, Draco, he whispered. I'm your daddy and this is your mommy, and we both love you very much.

Draco's grip tightened and Lucius stroked his small left arm tenderly. The same left arm which, in sixteen years, would bear a dark symbol replicative of the one his father bore on his own left arm. The enchantment of the moment suddenly broke. Reality came flooding back to Lucius Malfoy. A vindictive smile formed on his lips.

You will be great, Draco Malfoy. Mark my words. You will be great.

~~~

Draco, sit down and be quiet!

The energetic blond tyke stopped romping about the room. But Daddy, he whined, I was showing you how to be an elephant. You said you wanted to see, so that's what I was showing you.

Lucius hadn't seemed to hear the four year old's explanation, too preoccupied with the piece of parchment he was reading to notice. Draco pouted; he didn't like not getting attention. He decided to demonstrate his elephant impression to his father again. Soon he was once again scampering around the study, waving his arms wildly, and emitting strange high pitched noises every so often.

Lucius slammed down the parchment, irritated by the yelling and running. DRACO! I thought I told you to sit your bloody arse down and shut your God-damned mouth! Now do so before I throw you on the floor and hex your mouth shut!

Draco stopped in his tracks and immediately obeyed his father. He didn't always understand what his father's words meant, but from the tone of his voice and livid eyes, he knew he was angry. He quietly took a seat on the floor next to his father's chair.

Good. Now let's go over everything I've told you about. Who is our leader, the greatest Dark leader of all time?

Lord Vol-dee-mort. was the automatic reply.

What's Daddy's special job?

Daddy's a Death-eater.

Right. And when will you become a Death-eater?

When I turn 16 years old.

What do Death-eaters do?

Draco thought about it. They, um, torture and kill muggles, mudbloods, and half-bloods.

Lucius beamed. You are going to make an excellent Death-eater one day, Draco. The Dark Lord would be proud of you if he was here. He sighed. But not to worry, he'll be back soon enough to once again terrorize and take over the world.

He picked up his parchment once again. Run along now, it's your bedtime.

Draco stood and scurried towards the door. There was a pause and then the tiny footsteps hesitantly retreated back in front of Lucius's chair.



What, Draco? was the irritated reply.

What if I don't wanna be a Death-eater when I'm all growed up? It's not nice to hurt people just because they're not magic like us.

Silence engulfed the room as if the Silencing curse had been used. Only the crackling of the red-orange fire could be heard while the little boy patiently awaited his father's answer. He stood there motionless, innocent blue eyes wide with curiosity, his blond hair combed loosely to one side. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the paper was lowered and Draco's appearance taken in by two steely gray eyes. A large hand lurched from the armrest and slapped the four-year old across the face. The force knocked him to the ground. Two arms picked him up and tightly gripped his shoulders.

Lucius hissed, shaking the trembling boy furiously after each word, you WILL become a Deatheater, and you WILL want to, you hear me? Don't you dare mention foolish shit like that ever again! Now get the hell out of my face.

With a shove Draco was pushed towards the door. He fell, cutting his knee on a nail, but quickly was back on his tiny feet and scrambling out the door. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he ran up stairs and down hallways to his mother's room.

What had he done wrong to make Daddy so mad? He didn't think his question was bad. His small mind raced as tears continued cascading down his cheeks and blood dripped down his knee, but he could think of nothing. He concluded he was just a bad boy and his father hated him.

He entered his mother's room, panting and choking back sobs. Narcissa took a sharp glance at his red cheek where the outline of a hand could be seen and immediately enveloped the sobbing boy in a gentle embrace, running slim fingers through his blond hair while he cried. Soothing murmurs of Shh, it's okay were whispered softly in his ear until he finally quieted down, save for a few hiccups. Worn out from the terror and the pain, he fell asleep in his mother's arms.

A lone tear escaped Narcissa's eye as she hugged Draco's sleeping form. Her son was also now a victim of Lucius Malfoy's abusive temper.

~~~

I WILL NOT tolerate you getting yourself drunk and coming home at all hours every night! It's going to end RIGHT NOW!!

I don't have to listen to you. I will do whatever the hell I want to and live my life however the hell I feel. You will not tell me what to do!

I'm only trying to help you. You need to get a grip on your life Lucius Malfoy and stop dawdling in self-pity. What, just because your precious Dark Lord isn't around to tell you to eat and sleep means you can't function?

That was the last straw. From his perch on the step, Draco saw his father's face turn beet red with anger. He watched in horror as he punched his mother continually. She tried to block his angry fist, but to no avail. Draco crawled quietly back to his room. He heard glass breaking, loud thuds, obscene yelling, and painful screams as yet another fight between his parents took place. The 8 year old hopped onto his bed, closed his eyes, and covered his ears. Would it ever end?

~~~

Draco followed the other first years up the grand staircase. He rolled his eyes at their excited whispers and exclamations about the changing staircases or moving portraits. Big deal. He pushed ahead of his classmates and stood at the top of the staircase to survey the crowd. He recognized a few people as children of other Deatheaters. They were also fated to become Slytherins like himself. His roaming eyes finally landed on the infamous scar he had been searching for. He smirked and strode over, neatly pressed black robes swishing behind him. He stopped in front of a small boy with green eyes and messy jet black hair.

So, it's true then, what they're saying on the train, he drawled, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.

The other students murmured, trying to get a glimpse of the young hero, while Harry eyed the blonde suspiciously. Draco grinned confidently.

The name's Malfoy...Draco Malfoy.

The red-head next to Harry snorted. Draco whirled around. Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand me down robe - you must be a Weasley.

The red-head, Ron, turned slightly red and glared at Draco. Draco smirked and turned back to Harry. You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You wouldn't want to make friends with the wrong kind. I can help you there, he said, holding out a pale hand.

Harry ignored his hand and looked Draco right in the eye. I think I can figure out the right sort for myself, thanks.

Draco shrugged. Fine, suit yourself. See you around, Potter.

With one last glare at Ron, Draco spun around and followed the first years into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. He knew he'd be in Slytherin, so he didn't bother paying much attention. He was too angry to worry about where other kids were being placed.

He silently fumed, but showed no trace of it on his face. Living through years of his father's abuse taught him how to conceal his emotions, or suffer dire consequences. His father had also pound into him, literally and figuratively, that the Malfoys were filthy rich and should look down upon anyone who wasn't financially comparable.

The result of Lucius Malfoy's cruel beatings and haughty influence was an arrogant little eleven year old full of pain and fear. Unable to display these emotions, they came off as a nasty attitude full of insults and mockery. Instead of presenting his inner agonies to someone, to anyone, Draco buried them and closed off the world to his emotions. He had stopped crying long ago, finding it was useless along with screaming or yelling because it only subjected him to more abuse. His mother was no longer his source of comfort, for she had to wage her own war, and Draco didn't want to burden her with his own. The pain and fear stayed locked inside, behind walls of mistrust and shame, and under a roof of confusion. Draco was emotionally unreachable, and intended to keep it that way. For the more pain that is let out, the more pain that is brought in.

That night, Draco laid in his four poster bed in the first year boys' dormitory, green curtains closed, and stared up at the silver snakes sewn into the fabric of the canopy. How could Potter just brush him off like that? Why would he want to be friends with that lowly Weasley? Hadn't he understood, couldn't he see? He had been Draco's last flicker of hope, but now the fire was dead.

Harry Potter had practically defeated Lord Voldemort. The Dark leader now roamed around the world, barely a drop of life in him, looking for cowards to join him so he could regain his strength. Draco had thought that somehow, by befriending the boy who ruined his future leader, he would have been saved from his destiny. Now it wasn't so. The Slytherin vowed to make Potter's and Weasley's lives hell while they were at Hogwarts.

Thinking of Hogwarts, he sighed. Here, he was safe, away from the horrors of his home. He dreaded Christmas break, in which he'd be sent back to Malfoy Manor for two weeks. Two weeks full of terror and abuse. He was afraid. Very afraid. He feared for his mother, for himself. He feared what could happen or what he may see next. And all because of one man: his father.

Draco quickly shoved his fear away, tucking it back into its hidden grotto inside of him. It would remain there for a few years before sprouting new emotions that became hard to control.

Anger...Despair...

Hate.





~~~
Author's Notes: I don't know when Draco's birthday is, so I just used Tom Felton's birthday as the date...When Draco talks with Harry, there are certain lines from the movie that I liked, so I just used them in the story - I don't own the movie or actors!! ...This chapter was just a bit of memories and past events, the rest of the story will take place in the gang's 6th year...Please review, it would mean the world to me!!!! Thanks so much!!! ;)