A/N: Well, since no one reviewed the prologue, I am royally pissed, but I have enough heart to post another chapter. Perhaps THIS one will tickle your tastebuds, eh? Hopefully. Yeah, so this chapter is longer, and more happens. Plus, lots of yummy Lucius and Severus!! [giggles with glee] I have developed a fetish for anything dark/and/or/evil…Hehe. Well Enjoy!!!! And R&R!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So there! Nyah!

Chapter One

Lucius knew he was smart before he reached age six. Lucien however, did not. Lucius played dumb around his Father, because even at an early age, he understood his intentions, and was afraid of what it might mean for him. If that meant being punished for stupidity, then so be it. Lucius would have no part in his father's plan. He decided he would be his own man, if only on the inside. Even if that was all he had, it would keep him good, and pure, and unspoiled by Lucien's insidious poison.

He worried about his mother though. It became very clear to Lucius that she had once been someone very different from the person she was now. She did her best to raise Lucius, with the occasional suggestion or two from Lucien, but for the most part, Lucius raised himself. The nurse had been the kind of person he'd wanted to be. He'd always thought of her as a wild, beautiful rose within the strangling hold of thorn bushes. It had been hard at first to see her go, and no longer have any guide as to what was truly right and what was truly wrong. He soon had to decide those things for himself, all the while playing the idiot, not letting his father know his true intentions.

Of course, Lucien was not happy about this. Lucius often feared the times when his father's beautiful face would twist into malice, frustrated and angry at his son's inability to understand even the simplest things. Lucius often wondered it he'd once been something good and pure, if Lucien's own parents had poisoned him, making him something evil and cruel. He wondered if he'd suffered harsh blows from his father, or hurting words of disgust from his mother. He wondered if the only reason Lucien was the way he was, was because he'd been spoilt, as every Malfoy man had before him. What if in the beginning, the Malfoy's had been something good, or at least better than the slime they had become? Lucien often had times to think about this, locked away in his cold, dark room, piles of toys and wonderful things around him, and yet still feeling utterly sad and alone.

~*~*~

When Lucious was eight, he found something, something that became his passion. The Malfoy mansion was in itself too large for him to have ever seen or known about every single room within its dark and foreboding walls, but he sometimes would explore when Lucien was not home, for Serlia did not care one way or another what her son did. There were four floors, each dominated by a long, almost never ending hall, where uncountable doors lined the walls; most of which were locked, and therefore prevented Lucius from searching further, but that did not dampen his curiosity, and so he usually found other means of getting past the locks, even if it meant destroying the mechanisms beyond repair. He couldn't imagine his busy father ever finding time to check each and every room to ensure they had not been breached, for he had better things to do. The house was just where he lived, and he had no care to what his son saw and didn't see.

Serlia was busy reading a thick, leather bound book on a stiff couch in their parlor when Lucius sneaked away out the back door, leaving his toys in a pile where he'd been sitting. Serlia took no notice, turning another yellowed page which crackled in protest.

"I'm going up to my room." He said softly, just to make sure she didn't worry too much.

Serlia sighed, but Lucius wasn't sure whether it was a sign of recognition or not. He simply closed the door with a click, then pulled aside a dust ridden tapestry, and opened the hidden passageway he'd found when he was six, skittering up the dark stairwell. The sconces on the winding wall were long since put out, and Lucius had no means of lighting them, so he relied on the dim light and his own eyesight alone making his way to the second floor.

Once he reached another stone door, Lucius groped around in the dark, searching for the block he had to push. It took a few moments, but he soon pushed the right stone and the door groaned open, scraping against the floor. Pushing it shut behind him, Lucius stepped into the long hall, the candlelight flickering on his pale face and alone the paintings and even more tapestries that decorated the walls. It was not the main passage on the second floor, but most were always lighted, be the a frequented place or not. Lucius had already been in nearly all the rooms already, but there were a few that had still eluded him so far.

Determined to at least find his way into one of them that afternoon, Lucius sauntered off to the far end of the hallway, counting off the ones he'd looked at, until he found the four that were still locked. They were just the same as all the others, but being as curious as he was, Lucius had a deep yearning to explore, and so knelt down by the closest knob, jingling around in the lock with a pin he'd filched from his mother's room. He knew she didn't wear it, so what she didn't care about, she wouldn't miss. The mechanism however, was protesting, and after nearly half and hour, Lucius' brow was clicked with sweat, and he still had gotten no further.

"Nothing good is worth having," he told himself, brow creased in concentration, "unless it takes hard work to get it."

His own words didn't sound very convincing, but he took another stab at the lock nonetheless, feeling a surge of joy when it finally gave and clocked open. Stowing the pin in his pocket, thankful that it had not been damaged too much, Lucius turned the knob and gave a shove, stumbling into the dark room.

He could see very little, and what moonlight there was, shone filtered through a sheet that hung over the large, lone window in the center of the back wall. The pieces of furniture about the room were also covered with white sheets, and one large shape dominated the right corner, which used too swathes of fabric to cover it entirely. That caught Lucius' attention immediately, and he went straight to it, pulling back the sheets carefully with trembling anticipation. Once they had been tugged free, Lucius' stomach did a little flip-flop as his silvery gray eyes landed on the magnificent shape of a shimmering ebony grand piano, its ivory still pristine and untouched as if it had never been used before.

Lucius took a heaving breath, a slow smile creeping on his thin lips. He'd never seen a piano of any shape or form before, but he'd heard it being played enough to love the sound, and to instantly want to play something beautiful, even though he didn't have a clue how to do it properly.

"It's gorgeous." He whispered, running a tentative hand over the shining keys, jumping as he pressed a touch too hard on one, its sound ringing clear as a bell around the near empty room. It lingered for a moment, then faded into silence. Lucius immediately wanted to hear it again. He pressed the same key, this time with more zeal. The note rang louder, and Lucius felt a shiver run down his spine. It was slightly disappointing that he didn't know how to play like the real pianists he'd heard when he was younger, but the thrill of having a real piano before him was enough. More than enough.

Much to his surprise, the grandfather clock sitting unnoticed in the corner ran seven times, and Lucius realized he'd been gone far too long. His father would be home soon, and Lucien would not have his son wandering about unminded, so with great reluctance, Lucius backed away from the piano, and worked his way back to the secret stair case and eventually strode into the salon, sitting back down with his toys. They never ceased to not amuse him, but he tinkered around with them anyway, just to please his parents.

Serlia was no longer sitting on the couch, but Lucius could smell the delicious scent of dinner being concocted in the kitchen, and surmised she would be readying herself in her room. He heard the front door open down the hall, and felt the flurry of cold wind pass through the first floor before Lucien shut it again. Lucius shivered, half because of the chill, and half because he would have to face his father again, and have nothing to tell him about his day. Lucien demanded that he report all that he had accomplished during each day, but Lucius could hardly say the he'd gone up a secret staircase, broken into one of the locked rooms on the second floor and touched something that he obviously wasn't supposed to. Lucien often became angry when Lucius had nothing to report, and Lucius feared that this time would be one too many.

With a flourish, Lucien strode into the salon, his dark red robes billowing around him in a great bell. His glittering silver eyes were alive with chilling mirth, and Lucius shivered again, staring at the floor.

"Lucius, where is your mother?" he asked, sinking gratefully into one of their straight backed armchairs.

"Upstairs I think." Lucius murmured to his feet. "Dinner is being prepared."

Lucien smiled, and for a moment, Lucius thought he could see what might have been a shadow of his father's former startling beauty. Of course, he was still alarmingly handsome, but it was frozen with the chill of cruelty and darkness. His long, somewhat pointed face turned to Lucious, and it faded a fraction.

"How was your day?" he queried, that calculating look in his eye.

Lucius felt his face draining of what colour it held.

"It…ah…it was good. I did a lot of reading..."

"Reading." Lucien interrupted, his voice like ice. "What does reading accomplish? Have you been working at your studies?"

"Yes." Lucius lied. "Yes, I have been. It just….have had lots of extra time."

Lucien looked as if he didn't quite believe him, but said nothing more, and retrieved his pipe from where it lay on the coffee table, muttering a spell under his breath which sent it into flaming life. He took a long, satisfying drag, then exhaled, and Lucius had the distinct impression that he was purposefully trying to blow the smoke in his general direction. He wrinkled his nose in disgust when he was sure his father wasn't looking, then politely excused himself, spouting the story that he was going to prepare for dinner, while in truth, he was just desperately trying to escape the horrid stench. Once he was safely in the hall, he took a deep breath of clean air, then ran up to his room and changed, quickly throwing on some nicer clothing.

With a sigh, he plunked himself in front of the large oval mirror beside his bed, giving his reflection a foul grimace.

He looked just like his father. Almost exactly like Lucien Devura Malfoy, right down to the white blonde hair curling around his ears, and his long slender face, which held all the cold beauty his father posessed. He almost felt sick just looking at himself. Would he become like Lucien? Would he turn cold and cruel, and eventually marry a woman if only to corrupt her to his own use? Was that his future? Lucius dearly hoped not. He wouldn't be able to stand it if he became his father, because then one day his own son would become him, and history would just keep repeating itself, and nothing would ever change.

His stomach knotting itself into a black pit, Lucius somehow found the courage to go back downstairs, where the table was set and Lucien and Serlia were just sitting down. Lucius seated himself at the other end of the table, as was customary, waiting until the steaming dinner appeared on his golden plate. Serlia daintily picked up her fork, glancing at Lucien from under her thick black lashes. Lucien gave her a cold grin, then picked up his own fork, and Lucius could see Serlia shiver perceptively. They ate in silence, barely a word was spoken, and Lucien tried not to think about where he was, and what he was doing. His mind was solely on the grand piano where it sat in the forgotten room, and he felt his stomach do another funny flip-flop in remembrance of the clear, lovely sound it had made. He would do everything in his power to make sure Lucien never discovered it, or discovered where he was during his days alone, because it was very clear that if he did know, then all his afternoon trips would most definitely stop. Lucius didn't know how he would survive without them.

Finally, the remnants of their dinner disappeared, and Lucien rose, striding purposefully into the billiards room. A few moments later, the distinct crack of the balls being broken from their neat triangle echoed into the dinning room, and Serlia flinched. Lucius could see the tears beginning to form in her cold eyes. His heart ached to help her, but he knew she would never accepts his pity. Instead, he simply let her be, and shuffled into their library, burying himself in a good book. Lucious wasn't an exceptionally good reader, and he didn't particularly like books all that much, but he enjoyed the stories, and how they took him away from his own life for just a little while. It made things easier sometimes.

Later, when Lucius couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and his candle was nearly drowning in its own fluids, he finally put aside the engrossing novel and dragged himself up to his room. He crawled under the covers, curling into a tight ball to battle the cold that was creeping into his skin. It was never warm in the Malfoy estate. Even when the fire was blazing in their salon, it was still perpetually cold.

What Lucius didn't know however, was that no matter how hard he tried to evade the poison that was his father, he would always be cold. Utterly and perpetually cold.

~*~*~

Over the next few days, Lucius' routine was much the same as any other day. The next morning, he woke and came down to a warm breakfast where he ate alone. Lucien was already at work at the Ministry, and his Mother was either still in bed or had just decided to evade him that morning, hiding away like she usually did. After his stomach was relatively full, he strode outside into their monstrous garden, weaving along the path in deep thought. He came there every morning, to clear his head and organize his cluttered thoughts. The fresh, faintly scented air was just what he needed after his father's suffocating pipe smoke that often lingered even hours once it had been put out. Over the years, the smell simply soaked into the walls and stayed there, and so at all times, the Malfoy estate held the disgusting aroma of pipe smoke which crept up on you when you least expected it and sent you into a coughing fit at the merest hint of the smell. Lucius did his best to stay clear of the places Lucien smoked in the most, but it seemed to move around the house on its own free will and somehow always round him whether he liked it or not.

The sky was relatively clear that morning, and the sun peeked bravely from behind streams of wispy clouds, shining warmly on Lucius' neck and his bare arms. He wore nothing more than a thin creamy coloured shirt which tied up at the front and earth brown shorts that were still too big for him, even though he'd had them for several years. They hung down to his knees, often covering the dirt stains that Lucius sometimes acquired on his morning walks. Their gardener was very good, but every so often, he would miss a weed or two, and Lucius often took it upon himself to pull it out, which resulted in getting his knees quite scraped and dirtied indeed. Lucien would be appalled if he knew his son was 'rolling around in the mud', as he often said about playing in the garden, and his long shorts were quite useful for making sure he was not discovered before he had time to clean himself up.

This particular day, Lucius spotted Mr. Llombred, the gardener, puttering around a patch of brightly coloured bushes, muttering things to himself and taking a snip here and there. Lucius strode up to him, watching over his shoulder as the young man went about his business. He knew he wasn't supposed to talk to the "hired work", but he did anyway.

"What are those?" he asked politely, so quietly he wasn't sure at first that he had been heard.

Mr. Llombred paused, turning around and looking at Lucius as if he'd grown two heads. It was quite obvious that he knew who Lucius was, and seemed terribly surprised that he would take time to speak to him, let alone take interest in what he was doing.

"P-Pardon?"

"What are those?" Lucius repeated, giving the bushes a critical eye. "I've never seen those kind before."

Mr. Llombred took a moment to gather himself, moving backward a step and looking from the Lucius to the bushes, then back again. His brows were furrowed together, and his pull lips quivered a little as if he didn't have a clue what to say to that. Lucius waited patiently for an answer, crouching down and tenderly touching one bloom that was sprouting from the rich green branches.

"I don't know." Mr.Llombred admitted, scratching his head a little. "They just came in a few days ago. I have….no idea what they are because I can honestly say I have never seen this kind of shrub before."

Lucius frowned.

"My father picked it out?"

"Yes, I believe Sir Malfoy did. He talked to my superior about it."

"Hmm. Well, they're very nice."

Lucius spotted a hint of a proud smile light Mr.Llombred's youthful features. His sea green eyes glittered, catching the light of the sun now shining full against them.

"I make sure all my plants are healthy." He told Lucius. "They should all be beautiful. After all, that's what your father pays me for."

Lucius rose, giving the man a wane smile. He strode away, waving for a bit, then jogged back along the stone path and stopped under the shade of a small patio, picking up a glass of water that had appeared there upon his arrival. He downed it in one gulp, then went inside, once more suffocated by the faint lingering smell of pipe smoke. It didn't surprise him that it was distinctly colder inside than outside in the winter morning, but he just shrugged it off. He'd lived with it for eight years already. He wouldn't start letting it bother him now of all times.

Much to his surprise, without so much of a sound, his father appeared out of the shadows, wearing an emerald green robe and a grim smile.

"Where have you been?" he snapped, holding his staff in a firm grip.

Lucius shivered, trying not to let his fear show through his expressionless façade.

"I was taking a walk." He explained, staring at the floor. "It helps clear my head before I start my studies…."

"Your studies will be postponed for today." Lucien interrupted, grasping Lucius' shoulders and steering him down the hall, deep into the dark bowels of the Malfoy estate. "We are having visitors. They will be arriving in under an hour. You need to chance," he cast a disapproving eye over Lucius' somewhat threadbare clothing with a slight sneer, "and then ready the parlor with your mother…"

"Who's coming?" Lucius whispered, as politely as he could manage under the situation.

"Vessaire and Lucile Snape, with their son. We've invited them for a dinner. You would never have met them before….you were too young the last time they were here."

"How come they haven't come since then? It's been at least seven years, from what you say about me being too young….."

Lucien gripped his shoulders tighter, and Lucius grimaced, trying not to flinch away.

"Enough questions. Do what you're told. I shouldn't have to ask you twice Lucius."

Once they were in the main hall again, Lucien let go a disappeared, leaving Lucius to do as he was bid. He tried not to frown. The tiny pit of anger in his gut seemed to double with his efforts, but he squashed it down again. It was always there, and whether he willed it or not, it would sometimes grow as Lucius put off his frustration and bitterness. It was like a bottle which stored his bubbling and churning emotions. Whenever he quelled his feelings, it would overflow a little, and the bottle would have to grow to make sure it all stayed in. Lucius tried to keep it one size, because he knew if he let his emotions overpower him, he would become just like Lucien, and he did not want that to happen. It was almost like either way, Lucius would become his father, and there was nothing he could do to stop the poison from spreading.

With a frustrated gurgle, Lucius ran up to his room again, flopping on his bed and screaming into his pillow. The goose-down plump of fabric absorbed the sound, but it still seemed harsh and loud in Lucius' ears.

When would he ever escape this? Was he doomed to live his entire life surrounded by evil and suffocated by smoke and forced to be constantly cold? Wasn't there anything he could do?

Before he could stop them, Lucius felt the tears spilling down his cheeks and wetting the pillow, burning like hot fire over his pale, chilled skin. He bit his tongue to keep himself from sobbing, but the tears came nonetheless in a streaming torrent, fierce and unstoppable. Lucius had never cried in his life, he'd never allowed himself that simple luxury, but now that he was crying, it was the one thing he wanted most. If Lucien ever knew, there would be hell to pay, but Lucius swore he would never find out. Never.

Once the tears had finally dried up, he changed into more formal clothing. He despised the green robes his father had picked out on a long ago shopping outing, for they made him look too much like Lucien, adding to their already hauntingly similar features, but he had no choice. If he showed up downstairs in anything but the emerald robes, he would never hear the end of it.

After he combed his hair a little, and given himself one last sour look in the mirror, Lucius shuffled down the grand staircase and up to his mother where she waited by the front door. The glittering chandelier above them shone like a burning brand on his make, making Lucius' neck prickle with the beginnings of sweat. A picture in midnight blue robes, Serlia smoothed some bunched up fabric at her waist, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. She gave Lucius a brief look, then strode away, her high shoes clicking along the marble floor.

Lucious sighed heavily, glancing out the side window just in time to see what was undoubtedly the Malfoy's black town car pull up out front. The driver skittered out from the front seat, running around to open the side door. Vessaire Snape glided out, followed closely by Lucile in her flowing skirts. A small boy came after, but Lucius was too far away to get a good look at him. The three marched up the front walk, and Lucius winced as they rung the bell. With another sigh, he opened the door for them.

"Lucius." Lucile purred, sliding out of her long coat and draping it along his arm. "It's a pleasure to see you again. You were so young last we were here…."

Vessaire merely dumped his own coat without a word, his nose slightly upturned as if he thought Lucius was nothing more than dirt on his shoe. The small boy hovered behind his parents, clutching a large book to his chest. His dark eyes caught Lucius' for a moment, and Lucius couldn't help but get the feeling that the boy was afraid of him, despite his set shin and firm shoulders.

Vessiare and Lucile swept away into the parlor where Serlia and Lucien were waiting, but the boy stayed where he was, his eyes flitting around him, regarding the hall with a silent awe. Lucius shifted uneasily, then opened the side closet where the enchanted coat hanger snatched the jackets and promptly hung them on its long arms.

"Would you like to go up to my room?" Lucius asked quietly, playing with his fingers somewhat nervously.

The boy shrugged.

"Not really." He whispered, still looking around. "Do you….um…do you have a library?"

"Yes. Would you like to go there instead?"

The boy's dark eyes shone a little lighter. "Mmm. Please."

Lucius led the boy up to the second floor, and together they walked side by side down the long hall. The paintings leered at them in the flickering light, and haunting tapestries hung in all their dusty glory, popping up in your side vision when you least expected it. Lucius was grateful that there was no lingering pipe smoke staining the already somewhat musty air. He had a sudden urge to impress this small, sullen faced boy, and knew that there were very few folk in the world who appreciated the distinct smell of tabacco, and he supposed the boy was not one of those people.

"What's your name?" Lucius asked him, once they were nearing the great double door that announced the giant library.

"Severus." He replied, still glancing around and soaking everything in.

"Hmm." Lucius murmured awkwardly. "That's a—nice name…."

"Don't be polite. It's a horrible name."

Severus' blunt, expressionless interruption knocked Lucius off his balance. He stared open mouthed at Severus, but he continued to ignore him, simply holding his book and acting as if for all the world he had said nothing at all.

"Alright." He mumbled. "Well, I'm Lucius."

There was an awkward silence between them, until Lucius shoved the library doors open and swept inside, watching the candles in their brackets flare to life, glimmering against the red painted walls and rows of old, dusty books. Severus took this all in without saying a word, walking through the rows and touching the spines of the moldy volumes, taking one or two out and brushing the thick layer of dusty from the cover with one slender hand. The golden letters glittered back at him, telling Severus their various stories, and showing titles that had not been read in ages.

"No one usually comes here." Lucius explained. "And I don't look at many of them. My shelf is over here…."

He led Severus to the back where a few cushy chairs were placed, gesturing to a small, nearly hidden shelf occupying the space under one long fabric draped window. Severus crouched down and regarded the small assortment of books carefully, a small smile on his face.

"Do you like to read?" he asked quietly, rising and slumping into one of the green velvet chairs.

Lucius shrugged.

"Not really. I only come in here to get away and be alone."

Severus nodded knowingly. He opened his mouth to say something, but abruptly closed it, his dark eyes becoming somewhat distant. Lucius didn't question him about it. He had his own secrets, and Severus obviously had his. Right then was not the time for revealing secrets, when neither of them knew the other beyond names. Lucius simply said nothing, slumping down beside Severus with a faint sigh.

"What are you reading?"

Severus jumped a little at the question, but offered the thick book to Lucius nonetheless. Lucius looking at the cover where thin, curving green letters proudly stated: Potions Grade 1. Lucius wasn't quite sure what to say at first, but without having to ask, Severus supplied an explanation.

"My powers showed themselves when I was merely two." He said, brushing one strand of sleek black hair behind his ear. "My father immediately began teaching me the basics. This," he motioned to the book, "is fairly recent. I have only just begun looking over the rudimentary potions and their properties. However, by my calculations, by the time I begin proper schooling, I will have already leant the first year."

Lucius was blown away. Lucien had decided to begin teaching him too, but because of Lucius' firm decision to play stupid, he had not gotten far. If he tried, could he get as far as Severus? Could he be that good?

"That's interesting." He whispered, feeling very awkward again.

Without warning, Lucien suddenly Apparated in front of them, his handsome features all the more enhanced in the flickering light. Lucious, who was not used to this, jumped in his seat, his stomach rising into his throat. Severus, however, merely paled, no doubt unnerved by the powerful presence Lucien commanded.

He gave them a chilling smile.

"Why don't you boys come downstairs? It would be rude to ignore your guests."

He gave Lucius a pointed stare.

Lucius didn't want to go, but it was obvious they had no choice.

"We'll be down in a minute." He answered, giving Severus a wary look. Lucien Dissapparated with a faint pop.

Lucius shivered, then rose, motioning for Severus to follow. The small boy was still distinctly pale, and had begun shivering a little too, but other than that he looked alright. Lucius was terribly embarrassed, though he tried not to show it. Neither said anything as they made their way back downstairs. The tension was strung out so heavily between them he could almost feel it pressing down on his shoulders. He couldn't believe Lucien had ruined what might have been a friendship with Severus by scaring the living daylights out of him with his cold eyes and chilling smiles. He was so angry…..Severus was so very much like him, but he was probably too put off by the whole experience for them to have anything resembling a friendship now.

"Don't feel sorry." Severus whispered.

"What?!" Lucius asked incredulously. Could this small, unassuming little boy know everything about him?

"You're embarrassed." Severus insisted. "And, you think you should be sorry for everything your father does. You seem to think you're accountable for his actions."

Lucius snorted.

"That's right." He chuckled darkly. "My father's the one who should be accountable for me….I'm the one who he's ashamed of."

"Why?"

"It's none of your business."

Severus looked as if he wanted to say something more, but Lucius had the feeling he wasn't the kind of person who would say: "Well maybe I should make it my business." He was sure it would be something serious and soul shaking, if he was going to say anything at all. Severus didn't seem like the kind of person who said things, just for the sake of saying them.

"Do you think you and your parents will come back after tonight?" he asked, half hoping Severus would say yes.

"My parents and yours have been friends since their own school days. I'm kind of surprised it's been so long since they actually took time to visit one another. But, yes, we'll probably be back….Why do you ask?"

Lucius shifted uneasily.

"I don't know."

He wanted to say that he was lonely, and needed someone like Severus. He wanted to say that he didn't want to be an island of good surrounded by bad. He wanted to say a lot of things, but he didn't know what Severus would think if he did. But Severus simply smiled a little, and Lucius had the feeling that even though he didn't say what he wanted to say, he knew anyway.