Warning: There are little mentions of rape and a subtle-ish bit of slash in the following story, so please do not continue if you are uncomfortable with reading about either.
Disclaimer: J K Rowling owns everyone and everything, including my SOUL. But, if you're reading, Jo, I would happily take Lucius off your hands if he's too much hassle ^_^
Author's Notes: I apologise for boring you with my unnecessary A.N., but this is the first fanfic I've dared to show anyone's eyes but my own. Inspired by a story on here called 'Azkaban Mon Amour' which really got to me, in ways both good and bad, and a Severus I role-played with once on Facebook. Sadly, I think we shall not speak again after that bitch-of-a-social-network deleted hundreds, if not thousands, of role-playing accounts during the days surrounding Christmas 2010, including my own D; *sniff*.
Anyway, any comments are much appreciated, even if it's to tell me how you despise me and my style of writing xD
Every night, during his sleep, Lucius relived the horrific events that had occurred in Azkaban during his year-long stay. The many beatings he would receive for merely casting a guard a glance they didn't like. Their haunting, repetitive laughs as they continuously penetrated him without mercy or remorse. What they did to him was the ultimate degradation. Between that, they would make what Lucius knew to be empty threats about how they would do the same to his wife and son, but it made him seethe with anger nonetheless.
He had dared to resist and attack a couple of the guards on one occasion, but soon came to regret it when they beat him senseless and left him unable to move for several weeks following.
The harsh laughter rang through his ears as his eyes snapped open to meet the ceiling of his room at Malfoy Manor. His body was damp with cold sweat and he shook uncontrollably, but after a short moment, he laid still and breathed a sigh of relief at being home again. Even if the Dark Lord was torturing him to the point of unconsciousness every other night, it was better than what went on in Azkaban. It was better than hell.
He glanced to his right, wanting the comfort of Narcissa's warm body against his own, but found her side of the bed empty. He frowned, confused as to where she was, but also partly relieved that she was not around to see him in such a state. He had surely been screaming and thrashing about during his sleep. He turned his head to the other side and jumped at the sight of an anxious-looking Severus Snape sat in an armchair in the corner of the room.
Lucius, with great pain and difficulty, propped himself up on an elbow and stared at Severus, suddenly conscious of being half-naked and physically weak, but immediately banished the thoughts to the back of his mind. Severus was not, and would never be, an Azkaban guard. He was a friend, and a good one at that, even if he was keeping an irritatingly unblinking eye on him for the Dark Lord.
"You've been calling out during your sleep," he said quietly, concern written across his features, and even – pity? "Nightmares from Azkaban?" he asked.
At the mere mention of the place, Lucius' eyes misted over as he was lost in yet another terrifying reverie. He blinked, returning to his bedroom, and turned away to hide his reaction from Severus, responding with a vacant nod.
"Would it help to discuss it?" Severus asked, rising out of the chair and nearing Lucius' side of the bed. Lucius said nothing, for his voice would probably have been inaudible even if he had, so he shook his head in return.
Severus knelt beside the bed and rested a warm hand on Lucius' arm. Perhaps a year or so ago Lucius would have welcomed the physical contact, but after his experiences, the touch of anyone – especially another man – brought about unwanted memories at which his body tensed and his face turned stony. Severus very quickly took the hint and pulled away, and Lucius refused to make eye contact. He knew that Severus only meant to comfort him, but this was the wrong way to do so, no matter what had gone on between them in the past.
"How are your injuries?" Severus asked, his voice seemingly worrisome. It was odd to hear coming from him, and made Lucius feel slightly disgusted. Pity was not what he wanted, especially not from Severus.
"You know the Dark Lord," Lucius mumbled, sitting up properly now and hunching forwards to pinch the bridge of his nose. "He likes for the message to... sink in. The longer it lasts, the better."
"Would you like something to ease the pain?"
"Best not," Lucius replied, arching his bruised and scarred back slightly to stretch his tender muscles before dropping back down onto his pillows. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I doubt he will see it in the same way, do you?"
Severus shook his head in agreement, but since seeing into his friend's mind, seeing what he had been through during his year's stay in Azkaban, he pitied the man immensely and felt that he owed it to him to help him somehow.
"Then perhaps a sleeping draught?"
Lucius looked up.
"Why are you treating me this way, Severus? Am I an animal going up for slaughter? Are you making my final hours as painless as you possibly can – is that what this is?"
Severus frowned sadly. "Of course not, Lucius, I only wish that you are well rested. If you aspire to regain any of the Dark Lord's respect at all, you are less likely to do so tired and weak, are you not?"
Lucius winced as he turned on his side to face Severus, their faces uncomfortably close, and gave him a pained stare. They both knew very well that Lucius would never again be in the Dark Lord's good books. Voldemort knew nothing of mercy or forgiveness.
"Alright," he said after a moment's hesitation. "A sleeping draught would be appreciated."
With that, Severus summoned a vial with a wave of his hand and passed it to Lucius, who had, with a struggle, managed to sit up again.
"Drink only half," Severus instructed, watching the blonde man carefully. "Any more and you shall sleep for a week."
Lucius received the potion and stared at it as his voice seemed distant. "That might not be such a bad thing..."
Severus placed a reassuring hand on Lucius' shoulder and kept it there, despite the man's shoulders stiffening under his touch again.
"Sleep shall not quell the nightmares, Lucius," he said gently.
Lucius grimaced. "Will nothing?" he said in a strangled whisper.
"Only time perhaps... and good company." At the mention of the latter, Severus smirked.
Lucius frowned, slightly confused. "Good company?" he repeated.
"A friend, Lucius," said Severus, leaning forwards to meet his eye. "You need a distraction of some kind. A confidante, to hold the balance when you cannot."
Lucius snorted uncharacteristically. "And who is to be that friend, Severus? Come September, you'll be back at Hogwarts, and I shall remain here..." His voice became bitter and his eyes cold, "Stuck like a prisoner in my own home."
"I suppose I could always... visit you, should you be so inclined," Severus muttered, shifting slightly. Lucius smiled weakly at him.
"That would be appreciated, Severus. Any visit from you is a pleasure."
Severus made an attempt at a smile. This was also odd.
"I shall have to owl you some brandy, my friend, for the cold nights ahead."
"Kind of you..." said Lucius slowly, and then removed the cork from the small glass bottle of sleeping draught. "I think I ought to rest," he mumbled, swirling the liquid inside before raising the vial to his lips and swallowing its contents in one. "Hopefully this shall do its job. Goodnight, Severus. Once again you've left me in higher spirits. I owe you."
"Not at all, Lucius," said Severus softly, rising from the floor and returning to the chair. "Sleep well, my old friend."
And with that, Lucius drifted into another nightmare-filled sleep, yet it didn't seem as bad as before, because in the back of his mind, he knew that he now had someone to depend on; someone to hold the balance when he could not.